


At the Hour Of Death

by carolinecrane



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-30
Updated: 2010-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:08:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg's past comes back to haunt Nick while they're working a case together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Hour Of Death

Nick was kneeling by the body when the motel room door opened, collecting remnants of fiber from the ligature marks on the neck and wondering what it was that made people do stuff like this. As long as he'd lived in Vegas and he still didn't get it – didn't think he ever would, not…this. Torture as foreplay – it just didn't make any sense to him, not when there were so many ways to get off that didn't involve pain or fear or this kind of anger.

"Hey," he said when he glanced up and spotted Greg, gaze already riveted on the body as though he was afraid it might sit up and start talking. It was hard sometimes to remember that Greg was still new to all this, that even though he'd been working with them for years the actual death part was pretty removed from the work that went on back at the lab. Until Nick saw him out in the field, looking nervous and unprepared and way too young to be doing this job.

"Hey," Greg answered, gaze still fixed on the body. "What's his story?"

"Asphyxiation," Nick said, dropping the last fiber in an envelope and tucking it into his kit. "No I.D. From the looks of things I'm thinking sexually motivated homicide. Not sure yet if it was a game that went too far or if somebody wanted this guy dead."

He dropped his tweezers back in his kit and stood up, looking down at the body. He'd landed face down when he fell so Nick couldn't see his face, but as near as he could tell the victim was in his mid-twenties, a little on the skinny side but strong enough to put up a decent fight against an average size assailant. There were no real signs of a struggle, though, so he got the feeling that whatever happened here, the victim had agreed to it. He swallowed a shudder and tore his gaze away from the body to look at Greg again. "Do me a favor and go tell David the body's ready for him."

Greg didn't answer; he was still staring at the body, eyes a little wide and paler than usual even in the bad motel room lighting. He'd frozen up on Nick once before, but that had been his first time in the field and there had been a lot of blood on that bus driver. That time was sort of understandable considering, but if Greg was going to keep freezing up on him there was no way he'd make it as a CSI. "Greg, if you can't handle this..."

"Sorry," Greg said, shaking his head and looking up at Nick. "It's not…I think I know him."

"You know the vic."

Greg nodded and tilted his head a little as though he was trying to picture the body from another angle. "I haven't seen him in a long time, but I'm pretty sure that's Aaron."

"You can't even see his face," Nick said, frowning down at the body for a second before he looked up at Greg again. Some of the color was back in Greg's cheeks now, and if Nick didn't know better he'd almost think Greg was blushing. "What?"

"It's just…I've seen him from this angle. It's not like we did a lot of talking when we were together."

It took Nick a second to realize what Greg was saying, and when he did he felt his own cheeks flush bright red. He opened his mouth to say something – what, he had no idea – but before he managed any sound at all the door opened and David was wheeling a stretcher in.

"You ready for me?" David asked, glancing from Nick to Greg and back again.

"Yeah…uh, yeah," Nick answered, watching as a guy from the coroner's office helped David get the body on the stretcher. He knew it always took them a little while to move a body – they had to be careful, after all, because they were moving evidence and they didn't want to disturb it any more than necessary. But Greg's words were still echoing in his mind, and now Nick was stuck watching helplessly and trying not to picture Greg and the victim together.

It didn't help that he'd never seen the victim alive, because the mental pictures he was trying hard not to imagine were a lot more disturbing than they needed to be. And it wasn't like he'd never wondered about Greg, but he'd never been any good at guessing that kind of thing so he'd never been sure. It was just another thing about Nick that was wrong – he was supposed to be able to tell when a guy swung that way, but he'd always been hopeless at that kind of thing.

Even when he was in college he could never tell if a guy was hitting on him or just being friendly, and he still wondered sometimes how many opportunities he'd blown just by being clueless. He had to be careful, though, because then he'd been in a fraternity and now...now his line of work was still pretty high-profile, and it was close enough to being a cop that he didn't take any chances. Obviously Greg didn't have any of those hang-ups, though, because he'd as much as come out to Nick just a few seconds ago, and he'd made it sound like Nick should have known all along.

It felt like hours before they finally wheeled the body out of the room, leaving Nick and Greg alone in the crime scene. As soon as the door closed again Nick looked at Greg – he was still staring at the door the body had disappeared through, and part of Nick could almost believe he'd misunderstood Greg. He wanted to believe it, to forget the whole conversation had ever happened and get back to the crime scene, but if Greg knew the victim they were going to have to talk about it eventually.

"Are you telling me you slept with our dead guy?"

"Well he was alive at the time," Greg answered, finally turning back to Nick again.

"Since when do you like guys?"

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he had to be dreaming, because there was no way they were having this conversation. Only if he was dreaming this would be the part of the dream where Greg smiled that smile and finally followed through on all that flirting he did. But he wasn't that lucky, and instead of smiling and showing Nick just how much he liked guys Greg was looking at him like it was the dumbest question he'd ever heard.

"For about fourteen years now. Why, you want references?"

"Funny." Only he had a feeling Greg wasn't kidding, and if he wasn't none of this made sense. Sure, Greg flirted, but it never meant anything. He'd told himself a thousand times that it didn't mean anything, but if Greg really did swing that way it changed...well, nothing, because it didn't matter to Nick who Greg was sleeping with. It didn't, except that this time it had to do with a case, and that complicated things even more. "You really know this guy?"

"I knew him. Past tense. And not all that well."

"When's the last time you saw him?"

"We went out a few times a year or so ago. Since then I've seen him around at the clubs once or twice, but I didn't talk to him. The last time was around six months ago."

"Did you know he was into this kind of thing?"

"I knew he liked it kind of rough," Greg answered. Nick tried not to let his reaction to that show, but he knew he hadn't done a good job of hiding it when Greg rolled his eyes. "He was into some stuff that I wasn't into, so we went out a couple times and then we went our separate ways. I thought you knew."

"You thought I knew about you and…what'd you say his name was?"

"Aaron Landry. I think. And I meant I thought you knew I was bi. It's not like I kept it a secret."

Nick's mind raced as he tried to remember a time when Greg might have given him any kind of signal that he was anything less than straight. There was the flirting, but he'd always assumed that was just Greg being…well, Greg. He'd never taken it seriously, because Greg flirted with everybody. Then there was the crush on Sara, and the girls he bragged about periodically. He'd never mentioned any guys, but maybe Nick just hadn't been paying attention.

Or maybe he'd heard what he wanted to hear – he'd been accused of that often enough, and most of the time when Greg talked about sex Nick changed the subject as quickly as possible. His own track record was less than stellar lately – okay, for the past few years – and the last thing he wanted to do was answer a bunch of awkward questions about why he wasn't dating.

It took him a few seconds to realize he was standing there with his mouth open, but as soon as he did he blushed and cleared his throat. He looked away from Greg, reaching into his kit for a pair of gloves. They still had a crime scene to process, after all, and the less he thought about Greg's personal life right now the better off they'd both be.

"You might as well start dusting for prints," he said, glancing at Greg without quite meeting the other man's gaze. "We're gonna be here awhile."

For a few seconds Greg just stood there and watched him, but when Nick looked up again he shook his head and turned toward his own kit. He didn't say anything else while he pulled dusting powder and gloves out of his kit, and Nick told himself it was just as well. The less they talked the happier he'd be, at least until he figured out how to look at Greg without picturing him and some guy whose face Nick still hadn't seen.

~

A few hours later and Nick almost wished he still hadn't seen Aaron's face. Because he'd seen Aaron now, blue lips and pale skin making the images in Nick's head even more disturbing. It didn't help that he'd spent the past few hours trying not to picture Greg and the dead guy doing all kinds of things he didn't want to know about, much less imagine. He wasn't even sure why he kept picturing it, because it didn't matter to him who Greg slept with.

It was none of his business, and even if he'd wondered once or twice what it would be like, that didn't mean he'd fantasized about it or anything. Only now he couldn't shut the images off, and it had driven him to the DMV database to find Aaron Landry's driver's license just so he could put a living face on the images haunting him.

"What are you doing?"

Nick flinched at the sound of Greg's voice, but he didn't try to close the window before Greg got a look at the computer screen. He knew from experience that would look even more suspicious than looking up Aaron's license, and Greg definitely wasn't stupid. "Looking up the vic's last known address. You get those samples processed already?"

"Working on it. I know where he lived. Unless he moved since the last time I was there."

Nick congratulated himself on the fact that he managed not to flinch again. He was pretty sure he didn't react at all – at least not visibly, but the lead weight in the pit of his stomach was a different story. This whole case was bad enough, especially now that they were pretty sure it was some kind of sex game gone wrong. Doc had confirmed the asphyxiation theory, anyway, and Greg was processing the traces of semen as they spoke. All the evidence so far pointed to the fact that this Aaron guy got off on being strangled, and the fact that Greg…with somebody like that…Nick cleared his throat and stood up before that thought could go any further, reaching for the printout of Landry's license.

"Well I'm on my way there. Do me a favor – call Brass and have him send a uniform out to meet me."

He was gone before Greg could argue with him, not even stopping to grab a jacket before he headed out of the lab. The chill of the desert air felt good against his skin, cooling the heat in his cheeks as he crossed the parking lot and climbed into his truck. He started the engine and rolled the window down, turning on the cab light long enough to read the address on the license. And at least he had a mental picture of Aaron when he was still alive, but it didn't make him feel better the way he'd expected it to.

If anything it made him a little more uncomfortable, because now he was picturing a living, breathing person, and the images in his mind's eye were way too real. Still, it was better than picturing a corpse – that was what he told himself as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed across town, to a neighborhood he tried to stay out of if he could help it. By the time he pulled up in front of the late Aaron Landry's apartment building there was a squad car waiting for him, along with another unmarked car that meant Brass had showed up too.

"Slow night at the station?" Nick asked as he walked up the sidewalk toward Brass and another man.

"Something like that," Brass answered. "Nick Stokes, Dennis Watkins, building manager. Nick's with the crime lab. We're going to need you to let us into Landry's apartment."

They followed the building manager into a dark hallway, and Nick's nose wrinkled at the stale smell of rotting garbage and something else he was pretty sure came from a human and definitely didn't want to identify. He held his breath while the building manager found the right key and let them into Aaron's apartment, finally letting out a breath only to catch it again when they walked into a poorly lit living room. The smell wasn't much better inside the apartment, and Nick had no idea how anybody could get used to it.

"Open some windows," Brass told the uniform he'd brought with him. "But don't touch anything."

Nick paused just inside the door and opened his kit, pulling on a pair of gloves and digging out a flashlight. He glanced around the living room before he headed down a short hallway to the bedroom. It was lit a little better than the living room, and if Nick didn't know how the guy died he would have thought it looked like an average bachelor pad. It wasn't the cleanest place he'd ever seen, but most of the mess consisted of clothes strewn around and magazines littering the floor by the bed.

He had a feeling he already knew what kind of magazines they were, and the last thing he wanted to do was look at them. There were enough images in his head already without visual aids, but he had a job to do and he couldn't just ignore evidence. That didn't stop his stomach from turning when he picked up the first magazine, though, and he really thought he'd seen everything when they had that case at the S&M club, but that was nothing compared to this stuff.

"Jesus, the things some people do," Brass said, startling Nick into dropping the magazine. It landed on the bed and Nick flipped it shut as quickly as he could, trying not to see the image of too much leather and something he couldn't identify and was pretty sure he didn't want to.

"Tell me about it," he answered, glancing back at Brass long enough to catch the other man's grin.

"I'll pass, if it's all the same to you."

Nick smiled in spite of himself, reaching into his kit for a pair of tweezers. "So what are you really doing here?" he asked as he pulled the comforter back and turned his flashlight on the sheets, crouching by the bed to lift a hair off the center of the mattress.

"This is a pretty bad neighborhood," Brass answered, shrugging when Nick glanced over his shoulder. "You're working a homicide alone, figured it wouldn't hurt to come out and make sure nothing goes wrong."

"I'm not working the case alone. Greg's back at the lab waiting on DNA results."

"Great, so you've got the DNA tech tagging along. Don't get me wrong, Greg's a great guy," Brass added when Nick frowned at him. "But he's still pulling double duty in the lab. Seems like it wouldn't hurt to have another pair of eyes if you're doing the leg work by yourself."

Nick swallowed the urge to defend Greg – he wasn't even sure what he was defending, really, because Brass was right. Greg was pulling double duty, but that was part of the deal. He was a good DNA tech, but he wanted to get out in the field, so this was the compromise. It wasn't like he ever complained about it, so Nick never really gave it much thought. It was his case too, though, and suddenly Nick felt a little guilty about leaving him behind.

He tried to picture Greg in this place – Greg with the guy in the DMV photo – but now that he was standing in Aaron Landry's bedroom he couldn't picture it. Because sure, Greg could be obnoxious and he never knew when to shut up, but he had more class than this place. It just didn't seem right that he'd be hanging out on this side of town, doing even the tamest of the stuff in those magazines littered all over the bedroom. He talked a good game about some of the stuff he'd tried, sure, but none of it was violent.

'Rough' was the word Greg had used, but that didn't even begin to cover the stuff he'd seen in just a few seconds of flipping through that magazine. Which meant Greg probably didn't know half the stuff this Landry guy was into, and now that he was dead it was their job to find out. He kept telling himself he'd lived in Vegas long enough to be ready for anything, but sometimes he saw stuff that made him wish he'd chosen another line of work altogether.

"So are we looking at a homicide here or what?" Brass asked, and Nick glanced up from the mattress to watch him flipping through the stuff on top of Aaron's dresser.

"Not sure yet," Nick answered, straightening up and dropping a few envelopes full of evidence into his kit. "He was definitely strangled with some kind of rope, but we don't know if it was intentional. There were no signs of a struggle at the crime scene, but there were some weird marks…"

He trailed off at the sound of voices in the other room, and a second later he found himself face to face with Greg. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

"DNA came back, thought you'd want to see the results. And I thought you could use a hand here." Greg glanced at Brass, nodding before he turned back to Nick and handed over a printout of DNA results.

"Two donors."

"One's the vic, obviously," Greg answered. "The other's from an unknown. Nothing on CODIS."

"So we've got an unknown witness," Nick said, glancing at Brass as he handed the paper back to Greg. "Guess we'll let you know if it's a homicide when we find our donor."

Brass nodded, stealing a quick glance at Greg before he looked at Nick again. Something about the way Brass looked at Greg made Nick bristle; he couldn't explain it, because Greg was pretty inexperienced in the field and it was natural for someone in Brass' position to wonder if he was up for watching his partner's back. But it bothered him anyway, and it was all he could do not to frown when Brass asked the question he knew was coming. "So you guys okay here? I can leave Hansen on door duty."

"Thanks, we got it," Nick answered, working hard to keep his voice as neutral as possible.

"You're the boss."

He could tell by the way Brass was looking at him that he wanted to say something else, but a second later he changed his mind and headed for the door. Nick waited until he heard the apartment door close before he looked at Greg again – now that he'd seen Greg standing in this room he knew he was going to spend the whole night picturing it, and it made him wish Greg had stayed in the lab where he belonged. "Still look the way you remember it?"

At the sound of his voice Greg looked up, eyes dark with an emotion Nick couldn't name. He almost regretted asking the question, but Greg was the one who'd brought up his relationship with Aaron in the first place, and he couldn't blame Nick for being curious.

For a second Greg didn't answer – instead he reached into his own kit and pulled out a pair of gloves, pulling them on before he looked up at Nick again. When he finally spoke his voice was flat, all business and so unlike Greg that Nick found himself taking an involuntary step backwards. "Where do you want me?"

And there were a hundred ways Nick could answer that question, but he swallowed every one of them and cleared his throat before he turned back to the bed. "Check the bathroom," he answered, head down to hide the hot flush creeping up his neck. "And don't forget the trash."

~

It was one of those nights that he was sure would never end. They'd been over the crime scene and Aaron's apartment, collected every piece of evidence they could find, and they still didn't know anything. Thanks to Brass they'd found out that Aaron's parents were dead and that he had a sister somewhere in New York, but they didn't have any suspects. They didn't even have a decent lead on the mystery DNA they'd found on the body, and by the time he got home all Nick wanted to do was stop thinking about the case for a few hours.

Only that was the problem, because his brain wouldn't shut off no matter what he did. He'd tried everything he could think of, but he always came back to that same image of Greg and a guy he'd never met. He wished Greg had never said anything about knowing Aaron – if he hadn't this would just be another case, and Nick's stomach wouldn't turn every time he thought about Greg in that apartment, with that messed-up guy who was into things Nick never wanted to know about.

And he wasn't even sure why the thought bothered him so much, because he'd never cared about Greg's personal life before. Wondering and caring were two completely different things, after all, and until tonight Nick hadn't let himself think too much about what Greg did in his spare time. But maybe that was the problem, because he'd always been interested, he'd just never let himself _think_ about it. He'd never let himself take any of Greg's flirting seriously, but now…

He let out a frustrated sigh when he caught himself thinking about it again, tugging his shirt over his head as he walked down the hall toward the bathroom. What he needed was a shower – a shower and a decent day's sleep, and when he woke up everything would be normal again. He could stop thinking about Greg and some random guy – stop thinking about Greg at all, because he wasn't developing some weird fixation on a coworker.

He turned on the water as hot as he could stand it and stripped out of the rest of his clothes, pulling the shower curtain back far enough to climb into the tub. As soon as the water hit his skin he closed his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh and leaning back into the spray. He closed his eyes against the water, but the second he did he realized what a mistake it was. Instantly an image of Greg floated into his mind, and his whole body flushed at the mental picture. And he was not getting hard just thinking about Greg, but his cock twitched anyway and he groaned and forced his eyes open.

There was no way he was jerking off to images of Greg – of Greg and some dead guy, and that was creepy enough to make him wonder if there was something seriously wrong with him. He stared at the white tile of his shower wall, willing his mind blank just long enough to wash up and go to bed. When that didn't work he tried thinking about someone else – that hot cop who'd just transferred to Clark County from somewhere up north, only he couldn't get the features quite right and when he closed his eyes again there was Greg, smiling that smile that made Nick want to do things that would get them both fired.

Greg on his knees, smiling around Nick's cock and God, he was never going to be able to look Greg in the eye again. His hand slid down his stomach anyway, arm braced against the shower wall and his forehead pressed against his arm. He could feel the blush warming his whole body even as his hand closed around his cock, picturing Greg's hand in place of his own, teasing him before his tongue slid out to lick a hot stripe along Nick's length.

He couldn't do this, but he couldn't stop either so he thrust into his own grip, hips moving fast and fingers stroking roughly because now that he'd started he just wanted it over with. The shower beat down against his back, warming his already flushed skin as the scene in his mind shifted to Greg on his back under Nick, mouth open and demanding more as he pressed up into each hard thrust.

His hand tightened even more as he imagined how Greg would sound, how he'd look panting and arching into Nick. He'd be a talker, begging…no, demanding that Nick give him more, more of everything until he was screaming for it. He might even say Nick's name, moan it low when he came and wouldn't that be a rush. Making Greg lose control, making him come for _Nick_ – only for him.

And he'd claimed he wasn't into the same things as Aaron, but Nick was willing to bet he liked it a little rough. He had a feeling Greg liked a lot of things, a whole laundry list of things Nick had never even dreamed of. He wondered how much it would take to get Greg to show him some of that stuff – if he ever thought about Nick this way, if he'd ever jerked off moaning Nick's name. Wondered what Greg would say if he knew Nick wanted him – if he could tell what Nick was or if he believed what everybody else did.

But he'd never know, because he'd never tell Greg any of this. He'd never tell Greg about picturing him on his back, long legs wrapped around Nick's waist and fingers gripping the sheets as he urged Nick faster and faster. He'd never breathe a word about picturing Greg on his knees, lips wrapped around Nick's cock and eyes open to watch while he sucked Nick off. Just like he'd never admit to picturing Greg and Aaron Landry, his traitorous imagination still trying to fit them to the scenarios in those magazines that Nick didn't want to believe Greg could actually enjoy.

Only he was the one with his hand wrapped around his cock, thrusting into the circle of his own fist and when he came against the tile his whole body flushed with the effort. He could hear the sound of his shallow breathing over the rush of the water, eyes open wide and cheeks burning with the knowledge that he'd just come picturing Greg Sanders fucking a dead guy.

And he could practically hear Greg's voice in his ear, laughing breathlessly when he remembered the words: _Well he was alive at the time._ Like it was all just some big joke, like Nick shouldn't be surprised that Greg used to fuck some stranger who died playing sex games. It might even be funny if he could get the images out of his head for more than two seconds at a time, but as soon as he closed his eyes there they were, and he flushed all over again when he realized he was going to picture exactly this every time he looked at Greg from now on.

At least until they closed this case, and there was a part of him that wanted to go back to the lab right now, to figure out a way to call it an accident just so he wouldn't have to spend another night in the field with Greg. It wasn't like they had much to go on anyway – some unidentified DNA and a few weird marks on the victim's wrists, neither of which proved he was murdered. All it proved was that he wasn't alone the night he died, and if that was all they had they might as well close the case right now.

Except his gut told him they were missing something, that there was something weird about the case and if he just thought about it hard enough he'd figure out what it was. He wanted to call it an accident and move on, but even if he thought Grissom would go for it he knew he couldn't do it. Not until they figured out what the marks on Aaron's wrists were, until they'd processed all the evidence they collected at the crime scene and compared it to what they found in Aaron's apartment.

He knew it was like looking for a needle in a haystack, that some cases just didn't come all wrapped up in a neat little solvable package. Chances were they'd never find their anonymous DNA donor, and even if they did they couldn't prove he'd committed murder. All they could prove right now was that he'd had sex with Aaron, and Nick knew better than anybody that that didn't mean he'd killed the guy.

All of which added up to at least one more night of working with Greg before Nick could put a little distance between them, avoid him just long enough to get his head straight. He just needed a little time to forget what he knew about Greg's personal life – once he got over the shock he'd stop thinking about it, and then they could go back to being just two guys who worked together.

It sounded so easy when he thought about it that way – logical, and by the time he turned off the water and climbed out of the shower he almost believed he could just forget this whole weird night had ever happened.

~

By the time Nick walked back into the lab he was pretty sure he had everything under control. Not getting much sleep left him with a lot of time to think, and when he wasn't trying not to imagine Greg moaning his name he killed time by listing all the reasons getting involved with Greg was a bad idea. He still had no idea if Greg was even interested, but he'd managed to convince himself that it didn't matter. Even if Greg did want him nothing could happen, because they worked together and there was no way they could keep a relationship under wraps for long.

Not that he was necessarily looking for a relationship – he _wanted_ Greg, sure, but he wasn't sure he wanted more than a night or two. Just long enough to get it out of his system, and in the end the awkwardness they'd be left with just wouldn't be worth it. He'd been there before, after all, with girls in the department he'd gone out with out of a sense of obligation, and with guys who were just as vested as he was in keeping everything low-profile. But even when that was understood it was always weird afterwards, and he didn't want to do that with Greg.

They worked together way too closely for that, and anyway, he liked Greg. He was kind of weird, sure, and way too smart for his own good, but he was funny and he always seemed to know when Nick needed somebody to lighten his mood a little. Throwing that away just for sex…okay, so it might be worth it in the short term, but he knew he'd regret it eventually.

His mind was made up by the time he walked into the lab, and if his temperature crept up a notch or two when he caught sight of Greg it didn't mean anything. It was just a leftover memory of last night – he'd known that was going to happen, prepared himself for it and he wasn't going to let it interfere with the case. He ignored the urge to turn and walk as fast as he could in the other direction, forcing his legs to carry him down the hall, to the break room where Greg was pouring coffee and grinning over his shoulder at one of the girls from the fingerprint lab.

"Hey," Nick said, mouth set in a determined line and he wasn't exactly _ignoring_ the girl whose name he couldn't remember. He was just focused on the job at hand – namely the case they still had no leads in, and if they wanted to wrap it up fast he needed to keep Greg focused.

"Looks like the fun's over," Greg said, still grinning at the girl leaning against the counter. He picked up his coffee cup and let out a dramatic sigh, evoking a giggle from the girl and now Nick didn't care if he looked like he was ignoring her.

He swallowed the urge to insist that he was fun, shrugging instead and reaching around Greg for a coffee cup. "Hey, if you want to hang out in the lab and flirt all night I could get Sara to work the case with me. Might not be such a bad idea, considering."

He poured a cup of coffee and set the pot back down, not bothering to wait for a reply before he headed out of the break room. A second later he heard footsteps behind him, and he swallowed a smirk when he glanced over his shoulder to find Greg hurrying after him.

"What's your problem?"

"I don't have a problem," Nick answered. And he didn't – not really, but there was a part of him that thought maybe he should take Greg off the case. He'd had a personal relationship with the deceased, after all, and even though it was a long time ago that could affect his judgment. He turned into the evidence room, Greg still on his heels as he signed in and checked out the photographs from the crime scene.

Neither of them said anything else until Nick carried the envelope into the next room, setting it on a long metal table and reaching in to pull out and organize the photos on the table.

"So do you want me off the case or not?"

Nick let out a heavy sigh and looked up from the photos, frowning at Greg's expression. He looked mad, but there was a little nervousness around the edges of his glare and Nick could tell he didn't want off the case. And he didn't really want to exile Greg back to the lab…okay, part of him did, the part that knew he was going to be half-hard all night just listening to that voice. But if he told Grissom he was taking Greg off the case he'd have to say why, and he didn't want to hurt Greg's career just because he couldn't keep his own imagination in check.

"No," he finally answered, turning back to the pictures and focusing on the unidentified marks on Aaron's wrists. "What I want is for you to tell me everything you remember about this guy. Where he hung out, who his friends were – we might as well use what we've got, because the evidence isn't giving us anything."

"I didn't know him that well," Greg answered, but he relaxed marginally and Nick let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "I met him at a club, we hooked up a couple times, that was it."

"Did you call it off or did he?"

Greg frowned at the question and for a second Nick panicked – there was no way to explain that question in the context of the case, and if Greg asked Nick would either have to avoid it altogether or admit that he was bothered by the idea of Greg and their vic. But a second later Greg shook his head, and Nick swallowed a relieved sigh.

"Look, it wasn't that kind of relationship. I saw him at a club, we danced, he asked me to go home with him, I did. The next time I saw him he asked again, and after that night I'd had enough. End of story."

"Why?"

And he never had known when to quit, but this, at least, he could explain away as case-related. If Greg knew the kinds of things Aaron was into – if he knew the places Aaron hung out and maybe some of his friends – they might actually get somewhere with the investigation.

"You want details or just the highlights?"

He wasn't blushing, because Greg was smirking at him in that way that let Nick know Greg was just trying to push his buttons. So he wasn't going to give Greg the satisfaction of knowing how uncomfortable he was, even if there was a sick part of him that kind of wanted to hear all the details.

"If you know what he was into it could help with the case," Nick answered, carefully avoiding Greg's gaze as he scanned the pictures in front of him and picked up a shot of Aaron's wrists. "Any idea what caused these marks?"

"If I knew that I would have told you yesterday. Look, when I knew him he wasn't heavily into the S&M scene, but I heard a few things after. We knew some of the same people, that's how we met in the first place."

"Yeah? You still know these people?"

Greg shrugged and leaned against the table, his back to the pictures now and Nick couldn't help wondering if it bothered him to see Aaron like that. "I could probably find them."

"Good. We can start with the club where you guys met."

"Look, Nick, that place…"

"What?"

For a second Greg looked like he wanted to say something, but before Nick could push him for an answer he shook his head and looked away. "Nothing. It's probably not your scene, that's all."

"I've been doing this job a long time, G," he answered, mouth curving into a smirk when he realized he wasn't the only one who was a little uncomfortable. "I've pretty much seen it all by now."

He had a feeling Greg wanted to argue with him, but instead he just shrugged and glanced pointedly at Nick's chest. "Whatever you say. But you might want to change first."

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Nothing, if you want the whole world to think you're a cop. But the second you walk into that club everybody's going to know exactly why you're there, and they're not going to fall over themselves trying to talk to you. Trust me. I've got an extra shirt in my locker you can wear."

And he wasn't sure how he felt about borrowing Greg's clothes just to do a little canvassing, but he was the one who knew the club and the people who hung out there, so if he wanted Nick to blend he'd play along. "Fine. But I do the talking."

~

Nick cast another dubious glance down at the black t-shirt Greg had more or less forced him into. He still wasn't sure what was wrong with the button-down he'd been wearing – it fit him, at least, whereas Greg's t-shirt was just a little too snug for his comfort. The look Greg gave him after he pulled it on didn't really help, either – he'd tilted his head and frowned sort of critically, just enough to make Nick self-conscious before he said 'it'll do' and turned away.

Like this was some kind of fashion show instead of a murder investigation. Nick rolled his eyes and reminded himself for the tenth time that it didn't matter what Greg thought of the way he looked, that he hadn't been checking Nick out for any reason other than to make sure he wouldn't stand out too much at the club. Besides, he didn't see what was so much different about Greg's outfit – he was wearing that blue button-down that brought out his eyes and a pair of black jeans, and granted his jeans were a little tighter than usual, but they were still just jeans.

Not that he was looking, because he wasn't thinking about Greg like that. He wasn't thinking about Greg at all – what he was thinking about was solving the case, finding the last person who saw Aaron Landry alive and wrapping this up before he got in any further over his head. That was the only thing on his mind as he followed Greg into the club, flashing his I.D. at the bouncer and pausing just inside the door to let his eyes adjust to the light.

And okay, maybe Greg had a point about this not really being his scene, because none of the clubs he'd ever been to looked like this. Some kind of weird, slow techno beat was blaring over the speakers, and the dance floor was littered with bodies covered in what looked like dayglo paint. They were all moving to the beat, and in the dim light of the club it created an eerie effect.

He'd seen body paint before – well, he'd seen it in the lab, anyway, but he'd never seen it in action, and he had to admit that it was sort of mesmerizing. Only there was a lot of paint, which meant there was a lot of bare skin out there, and Nick suppressed a shudder at the thought of all those bodies pressing together in the dark.

Still, it was just dancing, and it wasn't like he'd never been to a night club before. He lived in Vegas, after all, and maybe he didn't get out as much as he could, but he'd been around. This club wasn't so different from the others he'd been to, and so far nobody was doing anything more off the wall than dancing.

As soon as he thought it he caught sight of black leather in his peripheral vision, and he turned automatically to watch a blond in leather pants and not much else being led through the crowd by a long chain attached to a collar strapped around his neck. And he wasn't staring, but it was hard not to watch as they passed right in front of him. It was even harder to look away when the blond turned and caught his eye, and when he winked at Nick he felt a hot blush spreading up his neck and all the way to the roots of his hair.

He jumped when a hand closed around the front of his shirt, finally tearing his gaze away from the blond in the collar to find Greg scowling at him. "Would you keep up?" he shouted over the music, tugging on Nick's – his – shirt until Nick took the hint and started forward. "We're supposed to be working, remember?"

The last thing he needed was Greg reminding him that they were on the clock, and he opened his mouth to say so, but when he realized Greg wouldn't hear him over the noise of the club he gave up and closed his mouth again. There would be plenty of time for arguing later – right now all he really wanted to do was get this over with so they could get out of here and back to the real world. He kept his focus on Greg's back as he followed the other man through the crowd, shouldering his way past bodies in the direction Greg led him.

The path Greg chose took them right to the edge of the dance floor, and Nick couldn't help looking around at the crush of people moving together in time to the music. Half the crowd was shirtless, most of them streaked in paint. The ones wearing clothes were even more confusing, because he couldn't tell the girls from the guys. He had a feeling there were a lot fewer girls out there than it looked like at first glance, and he swallowed against the fluttering in his stomach and forced himself to focus on the back of Greg's head.

A few times he got the urge to reach out and touch Greg, grab his arm or his shoulder just so Nick wouldn't lose him in the crowd. But he was pretty sure touching of any kind would be a bad idea, so he kept his hands to himself and focused on the angle of Greg's shoulder blades and the pale skin at the back of his neck until Greg finally stopped at the back of the club.

For a second he thought they'd reached a dead end, but then Greg reached out and pressed a spot in the wall and a door swung open in front of him, revealing a dimly lit hallway and Nick was pretty sure he didn't want to know what went on back here. There were doors lining the hall on either side, all of them shut and suddenly he was glad for the music pounding through the walls and the ringing in his ears so he wouldn't have to hear what was going on back here.

And if Greg was familiar enough with this place to know about the back rooms…Nick clamped down on that thought before it got started, because he didn't want to think about what Greg did or didn't do with strange guys in the back of some club. He didn't want to think about anything except the case, and when Greg took a sharp right and led Nick up a flight of stairs he swallowed a relieved sigh.

The stairs let out on a small landing that led to a glass door. He could see through the door that it led to what must be some kind of VIP room – it was a lounge that looked out through glass walls at the dance floor below, and it was obvious from a glance that this was where the club's wealthier patrons and their hangers-on congregated. What he couldn't figure out was how Greg knew this crowd, and what he was doing hanging out with them.

Greg knocked on the door and Nick reached for his badge, but before he could pull it out Greg's hand covered his to stop him. "Let me handle this."

Nick opened his mouth to remind Greg that they had a deal, but before he got the words out the door swung open and a guy around his age was frowning at them. He looked Nick up and down first, then his focus shifted to Greg and his expression relaxed into a smile that made Nick's stomach turn.

"Well if it isn't Greg Sanders. It's been awhile."

"Hey, Max."

"Who's your friend?" Max asked, casting another suspicious glance at Nick. Greg glanced over his shoulder, expression unreadable and Nick had to fight the urge to squirm for the second time tonight. "He's cute."

"Trust me, he's not your type." There was an edge in Greg's voice that made Nick forget all about the two pairs of eyes sizing him up, but a second later Greg turned away and Nick told himself he was just imagining things. If anything Greg was just uncomfortable being here with a coworker in tow – it didn't matter whether it was Nick or Warrick or even Catherine, for that matter. "Look, we're here about Aaron."

"What, not even a drink first?"

Greg grinned at that, the charming one that always made him look younger than he was, and when Max smiled back Nick swallowed a surge of…something. It definitely wasn't jealousy – Greg flirted with everybody, and there was no reason to be jealous. But this was supposed to be his interview, and suddenly he wasn't so sure why he'd even bothered to come along. Greg was the trainee here, and Nick knew he should step in and move the conversation forward, but the second he took a step forward Greg's hand was on his arm to stop him.

"Can't, I'm working. You heard what happened, right?"

"Sure. Can't say anybody was really surprised. You know what they say about playing with fire."

"Have you seen him around lately?"

"He was here a couple nights ago. Had a shouting match with some girl."

And this was ridiculous, because Greg didn't know how to interview a witness, and if this guy actually had information for them they should get him down to the station to make an official statement. Nick cleared his throat and stepped forward, ignoring the look Greg shot him and focusing on the guy leaning in the doorframe smirking at him. "Any idea who this girl was?"

"And he talks, too. You've been holding out on me, Sanders."

Nick ignored the fresh blush creeping up his neck, thankful for the darkness in the club so they wouldn't see the color spreading across his cheeks. "What'd she look like?"

"Well I can't say she was really my type." Another smirk, and Max's gaze wandered down Nick's frame and then back up again. "You, on the other hand…"

He laughed when Nick frowned, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. Pale, dark hair. Definitely a professional dye job – her highlights were expensive. She was…sturdy, if you know what I mean. Definitely well-fed."

"You ever seen her here before?"

"No," Max answered, glancing over his shoulder at the roomful of bodies clad in more leather than Nick had ever seen in one place. "We don't get much of her type around here."

"What type is that?"

Max shrugged and turned back to Nick, smiling a knowing smile that made Nick wonder what exactly this guy thought he knew. "There are plenty of rich kids who show up here looking for the next big thrill. Aaron, for instance. But this girl…she wasn't slumming. Nice clothes, manicure, expensive shoes. She wasn't here to watch pretty boys make out on the dance floor. She looked like she knew Aaron."

"Did you see Aaron with anybody else that night?"

"He came in with that guy he's been hanging out with lately…Brett Watson – Wilkins…something like that. I don't know if they left together."

"Thanks for your help," Nick said, jotting down the names in his notebook before he tucked it back in his pocket and looked up at Max. "We'll be in touch."

"Is that a promise?"

He tried to swallow a self-conscious grin, but the corners of his mouth twitched and he had to clear his throat to hide it. "If you think of anything else you can call the station."

Before Max could answer he turned and headed back down the stairs, carefully not looking at Greg on the way back to the main floor. It wasn't really flirting – he said the same thing to every witness, after all. But that didn't stop what he was starting to think might be a permanent blush, and he hoped the light in the stairwell wasn't bright enough for Greg to notice.

"You know, you might as well have asked him out for drinks."

There was an edge in Greg's voice, and if Nick didn't know better he'd swear the other man was jealous. "It was an interview, G. I said the same thing I'd say to any witness."

He pulled open the door before Greg could answer, and a second later they were enveloped by the noise and the eerie lights of the dance floor. If Greg had anything else to say it was swallowed by the beat of the music, and Nick told himself it was just as well.

~

His ears were still ringing when he stepped out of the club and into the relative quiet of the desert night. Nick paused just outside, letting his eyes adjust to the moonlight before he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Greg was still behind him. And okay, it was a little flattering that one of Greg's friends had been flirting with him, but he still couldn't get his mind around the idea of Greg hanging out in a place like that – with _people_ like that. Because there was a guy in there in a _collar_ , and there was no way he was thinking about Greg and leather.

"So this is what you do with your free time."

Not really a question, but he regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth. It was none of his business, something he'd told himself at least a dozen times over the past two days. So far it wasn't helping him stop asking stupid questions, though, and he could tell by the way Greg was looking at him that this time he'd pushed too far.

"What free time?" he asked, scowl firmly in place and Nick had to work hard not to flinch. "You know how I spent my last day off? Taking a gun safety class. Eight hours of taking a gun apart and putting it back together again. I don't have time for a life anymore."

He wasn't expecting that – he'd never really stopped to think about all the catch-up Greg would have to do on his own time just to make up for what he wasn't getting in a regular CSI training program. Still, it was his choice, and it wasn't like anyone was forcing him to do it. "Hey, that's what you want, right? You're the one who wanted out in the field."

"Thanks for the reminder."

He frowned at the sarcastic tone in Greg's voice, walking a little faster to keep up as Greg crossed the parking lot to his truck. "Look, man, it's none of my business what you do in your free time. I'm just interested in the facts that pertain to the case."

"So let's stick to the case then."

"Okay. So your friend up there…" He paused at the look Greg shot him, clearing his throat and looking away. "He said something about Aaron having money. You know anything about that?"

"His parents did. They died right before he came to Vegas, I heard he was living off a trust fund."

"What's a trust fund brat doing living in a dive on the bad side of town?"

"I don't know. When I knew him he had a room at the Towers."

"Why didn't you say that yesterday?"

"I didn't think it mattered." Greg stopped when they reached the truck, hands in his pockets as he finally turned to look at Nick. "Look, it's not like we were friends. I knew who he was when I met him, but we didn't exactly get around to small talk."

He'd managed not to picture it for most of the night, but as soon as Greg said it the images came flooding back. And this was the last thing he needed right now, but he swallowed against the fluttering in his stomach and reached into his pocket for his keys.

"Okay," he said as he unlocked the truck and climbed in, gripping the steering wheel hard as Greg slid into the passenger seat next to him. "So he was a trust fund brat who ran out of money, and he had an argument with a girl a couple nights before he died. We still don't have anything."

"Look." Greg let out a deep breath and turned to look at Nick, and even in the dark Nick could tell that he didn't really want to say whatever he was about to say. "The last time I saw him – I mean the last time I was with him – when we got back to his place there was some coke on the coffee table, right out in the open like he didn't really care who saw. That's why I left – I told him I wasn't into that and I walked out. Just a guess, but maybe he put his trust fund up his nose."

Nick gripped the steering wheel even harder, knuckles white against the plastic. He wanted to ask what the hell Greg had been thinking – why he'd risk his job for anybody, let alone some spoiled rich kid. Only Greg had walked away, and it still wasn't any of Nick's business. He didn't even want it to be – all he really wanted was for this case to be over, but every step they took forward just complicated things a little more.

"Anything else you wanna tell me?" When he looked over at Greg the other man opened his mouth, but a second later he changed his mind and shook his head. "What?"

"Nothing."

Nick rolled his eyes and started the truck, backing out of the parking lot and easing back onto the street. "Look, if you know something else…"

"No," Greg said, grinning now and Nick had a feeling he was being laughed at. "You should have seen your face back there."

And okay, Greg _was_ laughing at him, but it wasn't like it was the first time. So the club wasn't his scene – that didn't mean there was anything wrong with him. If anything, it meant he was normal. "I was doing my job, G. Besides," he added, shifting uncomfortably and stealing a quick glance at Greg, "there are some things I'm just as happy not knowing about."

"Haven't you ever wanted to try something different?"

"Not…that," Nick answered, punching the gas pedal a little harder. "Come on, G, you've gotta admit it's a little weird."

"You only say that because you don't know how to have a good time."

"What, I don't smear paint all over myself and get sweaty with a bunch of strangers and that means I don't know how to have fun?"

He glanced over in time to catch Greg's smirk, rolling his eyes at the other man's expression. "All I'm saying is you might be happier if you took a break from watching football once in awhile."

"I don't spend all my time watching football," he said, jaw set in a determined line. And maybe he hadn't been getting out as much lately as he could, but he'd been working extra hard since his promotion and that hadn't left him with a lot of time for a personal life. It wasn't because he didn't have anything better to do – he was just focusing on his career right now, and if anybody should understand that it was Greg. "This from the guy who spends his free time at the shooting range."

Greg shrugged, shifting in his seat and looking out the window. "We've all got our priorities. Doesn't mean I don't remember how to have a good time."

And he really didn't want to hear this, because if Greg started talking about what he did to let off steam Nick really wouldn't ever be able to look at him again. It was bad enough knowing what he'd been picturing just last night – knowing how easy it was for him to conjure an image of Greg on his knees, mouth stretched around Nick's cock and he was never going to get through the night if he started thinking about that.

He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably, thankful that at least Greg wasn't watching him squirm. "Yeah, well, right now my priority is figuring out if Aaron Landry was murdered."

"That makes two of us."

"Good," he said, swallowing a relieved sigh as they finally reached the crime lab. He wanted out of the truck, away from Greg just long enough to catch his breath and get his head together. He wanted to get back to the lab and go over the case again, to figure out what they were missing so they could decide one way or the other if there was a crime to investigate. The sooner they got this case over with the sooner things could get back to normal, and _that_ was his biggest priority.

~

They were almost to the lab when Greg glanced over at Nick, expression unreadable and Nick couldn't tell if he was still mad or if Greg was making fun of him again. "I want my shirt back."

"What, now?"

That got him another look, appraising this time, but before Nick could read anything into it Greg's expression shifted into a smirk. "I can wait."

Okay, definitely making fun of him, and if they weren't about to walk into the lab where Grissom or anyone might see he would have pulled Greg's shirt off and handed it over. He was tempted to do it anyway just to prove a point, only he wasn't exactly sure what point he was trying to prove. That was the whole problem with knowing about Greg's personal life, because the more Nick heard the more off balance he felt.

He didn't really need to know that Greg had slept with some addict, or that the addict was some rich kid who couldn't possibly have anything in common with Greg. Greg was smart, for one thing, and Nick couldn't see how anyone who'd blow their entire inheritance on drugs could qualify as smart. Greg had a future too, which Nick was guessing Aaron never had, even before he got caught up in whatever he was doing when he died. None of it added up, but as much as he wanted to ask, he knew he couldn't.

When they finally reached the lab Nick stopped at the reception desk, grateful for an excuse to let Greg go on ahead. He picked up his messages and sifted through them, stopping at a message from Brass telling him that they'd located Aaron's sister. His rich sister, who was probably going to want answers Nick didn't have. He swallowed a frustrated sigh and tossed the message in the trash, tucking the others in his pocket and heading toward the locker room to change back into his own shirt.

He was almost there when Sara caught up with him, her eyes lighting up when she saw him. "Hey. Warrick and I just wrapped up our robbery, if you need any help with your case."

"Thanks," Nick answered, forcing a tight-lipped smile. "It's under control."

Sara grinned as Nick stopped in front of the locker room, wishing not for the first time that it wasn't coed. And it just figured she'd pick now to gloat over the fact that she'd already solved her own case. He reached out to push the door open, but before he could make his escape she was talking again.

"Everybody likes the glory of working a case alone, but if there are other CSIs available…"

"I'm not working alone," Nick interrupted.

As soon as Sara smirked Nick tensed – he knew what was coming, and even though he expected it from her he didn't want to hear it. "You mean Greg? Nick, come on."

"He's gotta learn sometime," Nick answered, biting back a lecture about treating Greg with the respect she'd give any trainee. He knew why it was hard for Sara to take Greg seriously – maybe if he'd started as an actual trainee instead of spending five years in the lab goofing around, but they all knew Greg and it was hard to shake perceptions just because their working relationships were changing. "He knows what he's doing. You should give him more credit."

He could tell from her skeptical expression that she wasn't willing to buy the idea that Greg might actually be an asset to the team, but he told himself that was just her competitive streak. Then again, he couldn't really picture Greg and Sara working a case together – or maybe he just didn't want to, because he'd seen Greg flirt with Sara over the years and he was just waiting for the day when she finally gave in.

Before he could follow that train of thought to places he didn't want to be a throat cleared behind him, and he turned to find Greg standing a few feet away. Heat crept up his neck as he wondered how long Greg had been standing there, what he'd heard and whether or not he was going to use it against Nick.

"Results are back from the samples we collected at the apartment," Greg said, casting a quick glance at Sara. He didn't give her his usual flirtatious grin, and Nick couldn't help the little thrill of victory that shot through him. Only if Greg wasn't flirting with Sara that meant he'd probably heard their conversation, and that meant he'd heard Nick defending him.

"Yeah?" he said, willing himself not to blush as he turned away from Sara and fell into step with Greg. "Anything we can use?"

"Most of the DNA was Aaron's," Greg answered, flipping through the sheets of paper in his hand until he found what he was looking for. "A couple of the hairs came from the other semen donor, though. And then there's this."

And there went that grin, triumphant and Nick had to remind himself that it wasn't for him. If anything, Greg was pleased with himself, and Nick shouldn't find it nearly as charming as he did. He found himself grinning back anyway, leaning a little closer to get a look at the results Greg was pointing at. "Two samples – hair collected at the apartment. Both from a female relative."

"The sister?"

Greg shrugged, glancing away from the results to look at Nick. "Could be she paid Aaron a visit before he died. He was fighting with a girl at the club."

"We didn't find any evidence of a female at the crime scene."

"Might be worth finding out what they were arguing about anyway. Maybe she has some idea who wanted Aaron dead."

"Yeah, and it might be worth taking another look at the crime scene. Could be we missed something on first glance. We need to get Brass to track down the boyfriend, too. You don't know this guy Aaron was hanging out with, do you?"

"I don't know every gay guy in Vegas," Greg answered, bitterness chasing all the excitement out of his voice and Nick could have kicked himself for asking. He wasn't even sure why he did – if Greg knew the guy he would have said something, especially if it would help them track down their suspect faster.

Part of him felt like he should apologize, but he wasn't sure how, so instead he cleared his throat and nodded in the direction of the exit. "Give me a minute to call Brass and we'll head back to the crime scene."

Greg nodded and turned toward his lab, and Nick watched him drop the DNA results on his lab station before he turned and headed down the hall to use the phone. He dialed Brass' extension and left a message with the information they had on Aaron's boyfriend, and by the time he hung up Greg was standing just outside the door waiting for him.

"Ready?" he asked, digging his keys out of his pocket and leading Greg toward the entrance to the building.

It wasn't until they were outside that Greg looked over at him again, expression something close enough to anger to make Nick flush. "You sure you don't want to take Sara instead?"

Nick frowned at the question, shaking his head as they reached the truck and he unlocked the doors. He wasn't sure why Greg was asking – if he'd heard what Sara said that meant he'd heard Nick too, and he should know Nick had meant what he said. "Come on, G. This is our case. Unless you'd rather be working with Sara."

"Right," Greg said, rolling his eyes and climbing into the passenger seat. He waited until Nick slid behind the wheel, leaning back on the bench seat to look at the other man. "You heard her. She doesn't even think I can do this job."

"She's like that with everybody. It's all about competition with her, it's nothing personal. Trust me," he added, starting the truck and pulling out of the lot. And this was another one of those questions that was none of his business, but before he could stop them the words were tumbling out of his mouth. "So what's with you and Sara, anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean how come you flirt with her if…"

"I said I was bi," Greg interrupted, annoyed again and Nick could add that question to the list of things he wished he'd never asked. The last thing he wanted was more tense silence – there had been enough of that between them in the past two nights, and he was starting to think things were never going to get back to normal.

By the time they reached the motel the silence between them was palpable, and Nick had to stop himself from drumming his fingers nervously on the steering wheel as he pulled up in front of the crime scene and turned off the engine. He shut off the lights and leaned back against the seat, venturing a glance at the other man to find Greg watching him.

"She's easy."

"What?"

He tried to swallow his shock, but Greg must have heard it because he laughed, and just like that the tension was gone again. "Not like that. I mean it's easy to get under her skin. It breaks up the monotony on slow nights."

"So you flirt with Sara because you're bored."

"Well I wouldn't turn her down if she said yes," Greg amended, grinning now and Nick caught himself just before he frowned. "But most of the time it's just something to do."

Nick wasn't sure what to think about that; what he really wanted to know was why Greg flirted with _him_ , but for once he managed to stop himself from blurting out the question. And even if he could think of a way to ask that wouldn't let Greg know exactly how interested he was, he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer. If Greg just flirted with him because he didn't have anything better to do he didn't want to know; things were already weird enough between them, and the best thing they could do was keep their relationship completely professional from now on.

~

The crime scene looked exactly the way they left it: mattress stripped bare, tape outlining the spot on the floor where Aaron was found, fingerprint powder covering nearly every surface. The smell of death lingered in the air, making Nick's nose wrinkle and it was a struggle not to reach up and cover his mouth. Greg didn't bother fighting the urge – his hand covered half his face, fingers masking the scent as well as he could, and for the first time Nick wondered if working this case bothered Greg at all.

Knowing the vic – knowing him the way Greg had known Aaron – made everything more complicated, and even though Nick had never worked a case he was personally involved in, he knew how Greg felt.

"So what are we looking for?"

"Anything we missed the first time," Nick answered, starting and looking away when he realized he'd been staring at Greg.

He'd pulled his hand away from his mouth, but Nick couldn't tell by his expression if being in the room where Aaron died was bothering him. He couldn't ask, either, because he'd already asked enough stupid questions for one night, and he knew it was only a matter of time before Greg called him on it. There was no real explanation for his sudden interest in Greg's personal life – at least not one he wanted to admit to, and he knew Greg wouldn't believe any lame story he came up with.

So he shook his head to chase away any lingering curiosity about Greg's past, reminding himself they had a case to solve. He pulled on a pair of gloves, carefully not watching as Greg did the same. Because he wasn't thinking about Greg's hands, about the shape of his fingers or how they'd feel on Nick's skin. He wasn't thinking about the things Greg might have done to Aaron with those hands, about the things he might do to himself when he was alone.

And it was hard to imagine Greg ever having to worry about being alone, but he'd said he didn't have a lot of time for a social life lately, and Nick knew all too well how that felt. Sure, he could _make_ time, but it had been so long since he bothered that it didn't seem worth the effort anymore. He wondered if Greg felt the same way, if he was that caught up in being a CSI that he was willing to trade in his life the way the rest of them had.

That was another one of those questions he wasn't going to ask, though, because he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer. Instead he crossed the room, stopping next to the bed and reaching for the mattress. "Give me a hand here."

Greg looked up from his inspection of the closet, nodding once and crossing the room to grab the other side of the mattress. Together they wrestled it off the box spring, resting it against the wall before they turned back to the bed frame. "You find something?"

"Not sure yet," Nick answered, reaching for the box spring next and pushing it off the cheap metal frame. Greg dragged it out of his way, leaning it against the mattress as Nick crouched down to shine his flashlight along the carpet. There was a lot of dust, a few stains he couldn't identify and probably didn't want to, and the usual garbage – forgotten baggage claim tickets, a plastic token or two from various casino promotions, but nothing that shed any light on their case.

He let out a frustrated sigh and glanced up at Greg, mouth set in a grim line. "There's nothing here."

"Maybe the fingerprints will tell us something."

"It's a motel room, G. Thousands of prints, most of them from people who never even laid eyes on Aaron. Unless we find the guy he was with that night we've got nothing." He could see the disappointment Greg was trying to hide, but he wasn't sure if it was because they didn't have any leads or if it had something to do with the fact that Greg knew the vic. "Look, we can't solve every case. Sometimes there's just not enough to go on."

"Yeah, I know," Greg said, frowning a little and for a second Nick wondered if he'd said something else wrong. "So did you mean that stuff you said before?"

"What stuff?" he asked, although he had a feeling he knew what Greg was talking about. And he wished now that he hadn't said any of it, because he'd meant it, but the last thing he needed was for Greg to have something to hold over his head.

Only Greg didn't look like he was planning to tease Nick about what he'd said to Sara – in fact, he looked a little unsure, younger than he was and Nick had never wanted to kiss anybody so much in his life. "What you said to Sara, about me knowing what I'm doing."

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it," Nick answered, the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin when Greg smiled at him. He'd been expecting Greg's smug, self-satisfied expression, so the genuine smile Greg turned on him made his heart skip a beat. His _heart_ , and he really was in over his head if he was getting that worked up over a smile. But he was still standing there grinning back at Greg like an idiot, and when Greg started forward he swallowed hard.

There was no way Greg was thinking the same thing he was – he couldn't be, but he was moving closer, smile fading into something more serious and when Greg stopped right in front of him Nick's fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and touch. He couldn't – that was against every rule he'd set for himself before he got to the lab tonight, but Greg was standing so close Nick could feel the heat pouring off him, could smell him if he just leaned in a little closer.

He felt himself start to move, barely six inches separating them now, but before he could do anything stupid like pull Greg close and kiss him Greg was gone. Nick looked down, eyes wide at the sight of Greg on his knees in front of him, leaning under the bed frame and a second later he straightened up, something clutched between his thumb and forefinger.

Nick's whole face flushed bright red when he realized what Greg was doing, and he cleared his throat and took a step backwards as Greg pushed himself back to his feet. He had no idea how he'd missed it, but when Greg held out his hand there was a thin piece of metal dangling from his fingers.

"Good eye."

"It was the angle," Greg answered, shrugging and laying the bracelet carefully across one palm. "The clasp was caught on the frame, you couldn't see it from the other side."

Nick nodded, because he wasn't convinced he shouldn't have seen it, but he wasn't going to argue about it. He couldn't believe he'd thought…and that Greg would come on to him here, of all places. He felt his temperature creep up a few more degrees, ducking his head to hide his blush as he studied the bracelet still resting in Greg's palm. It was made up of a series of small metal squares, and right in the center of each square was a metal starburst.

"Does that look…"

"Looks a lot like the marks on Aaron's wrists," Nick finished, careful not to make contact with Greg's hand as he reached for the bracelet and held it up. "The question is, was he wearing it when he died, or was somebody else?"

"Guess there was something here after all," Greg said, and when Nick looked up at him this time he did look smug. Just a few seconds ago he'd thought…his ears burned at the memory, and he shook his head to chase the thought away and reached into his kit for an envelope. He took his time labeling it before he dropped it into his kit and peeled his gloves off.

"Good work," he said, glancing over his shoulder without quite meeting Greg's gaze. "We still need to find the guy Aaron was with, but maybe this will give us something else to go on."

He headed for the door, pulling it open and waiting while Greg picked up his own kit and followed Nick out of the room. They ducked under the crime scene tape and headed back to the truck, setting their kits in the back seat before they climbed into the cab. He still wasn't looking at Greg, but he was almost sure he could feel the weight of Greg's gaze on him. His whole body twitched with the effort not to look – he'd already come close enough to embarrassing himself for one night, and there was no way he was going to let it happen again.

"Are you okay?"

Nick flinched at the sound of Greg's voice, mouth stretched into a frown as he pulled out of the parking lot and pointed the truck back toward the lab. "Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

He caught Greg's shrug out of the corner of his eye, and he swallowed hard against the disappointment that shot through him when he realized Greg was going to let it go. "No reason. Forget I asked."

Greg settled back against the seat, and when Nick finally ventured a glance toward the passenger seat Greg's eyes were closed. His neck was arched, revealing way too much pale skin for Nick's comfort, and he forced his eyes back to the road before his mind started wandering. He couldn't afford to think about Greg that way, not if he wanted to get through the rest of this case without having to transfer back to Dallas.

~

A few hours' sleep didn't make Nick feel any less ridiculous about the night before. The last thing he wanted to do was face Greg, not after almost making a total fool of himself in that motel room. So he was almost relieved when he answered his phone to find Brass on the other end of the line, calling to tell him they'd found Brett Wilson and they were holding him until Nick got to the station for the interview.

He knew he should stop by the crime lab and pick up Greg – it was their case, after all, and he should be there for the interview. But there was new evidence to process, and it wasn't like he knew anything about conducting an interview, so his time would be better spent back in the lab. That was what Nick told himself as he walked into the police station, stopping long enough to find out where Brass was before he headed toward the interview room.

The guy sitting across the table from Brass was younger than Nick expected, hands spread out in front of him and drumming restlessly against the table. He was big – that much Nick could tell just from his hands – a lot bigger than Aaron, and it was easy to see how he could do some damage. He didn't really _look_ dangerous, though, and when Nick slid into the chair next to Brass he could see the fear written all over the kid's face.

"This is Nick Stokes," Brass said, eyes never leaving Brett's face as he gestured toward Nick. "He's with the crime lab."

"Hey," Nick said, nodding when Brett turned wide eyes on him. He reached into the envelope he'd brought with him and slid a picture out, pushing it across the table to Brett. "You recognize this man?"

Brett flinched at the crime scene photo, but he didn't look surprised to find out Aaron was dead. "That's Aaron."

"When did you last see him?"

"A few days ago," Brett answered, shrugging and looking away from the picture.

"Witnesses put you at a nightclub with Aaron the night of his death," Brass said, leaning forward and squinting at Brett.

"So we went to a club." Another shrug, and Brett looked up at Brass, jaw set in a defiant line. "That doesn't mean I killed him."

"No, but there's DNA evidence all over the motel room he was found in," Nick said, leaning forward and folding his hands in front of him on the table. "And chances are when I take a DNA sample from you it's gonna match the DNA we found all over Aaron."

"What if I refuse to give a sample?"

"That's not up to you anymore," Brass answered, smiling grimly when Brett glanced at him. "Probable cause. We know you worked at the motel, and we know you had access to the room where Aaron was killed. That gives us the right to do pretty much whatever we want."

"Look, Brett," Nick said, leaning a little further forward and smiling reassuringly, "we know you were there, and we know you and Aaron had sex. Things got a little rough, then they got a little out of hand. You're a big guy, maybe you didn't know your own strength."

"Okay," Brett interrupted, hands pressed flat against the table and Nick could see his mind racing for an explanation. "Yeah, I was there. I'm the maintenance guy at the motel during the day, I've got a master key. Sometimes we'd go there, use one of the empty rooms. Aaron got off on the danger of getting caught or something. We had sex, then he passed out. It happens every time, he says – said – the rush made it better."

"The rush."

"Yeah, from the choking, you know? Sometimes he wanted me to use my hands, but mostly it was a rope or something. He'd get lightheaded and pass out, but he always came to after awhile. After he passed out I got dressed and walked a couple blocks to the 7-Eleven for a pack of smokes. When I got back..."

He paused, shuddering at the memory before he found his voice again. "It was different, you know? I figured he'd be awake again by the time I got back, but he was on the floor, and he wasn't breathing. I just got the hell out of there."

"Why didn't you call 911?"

"I freaked," Brett answered, some of the color creeping back into his cheeks at the memory. "If my boss found out I'd lose my job. Besides…I thought maybe it was my fault."

It was obvious the kid was terrified, and part of Nick almost felt sorry for him. He couldn't have been more than twenty-three, and he definitely wasn't what Nick had been expecting. For the past three days he'd had an image in his head of some kind of sadist, a psycho who got off on causing pain. Just looking at this kid was enough to tell him that Aaron had definitely been the one in charge, and it was hard to believe the kid had killed him on purpose.

"So you got back to the room and he was on the floor. Where was he when you left?"

"Passed out on the bed," Brett said, fidgeting in his seat and trying hard not to look at the picture of Aaron still lying on the table. "I didn't…I never meant to really hurt him. He said he liked it, that it was the only way he could get off."

Next to him Brass cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably, the only sign he'd given since the interview started that he was less than okay with the subject matter. Nick couldn't really blame him – the thought of needing somebody to choke him just so he could get excited creeped Nick out too, but he had a feeling Brass' discomfort had to do with more than just the sex games Aaron liked to play.

"There was no rope found at the scene. Any idea what happened to it?"

"When I left it was still on the bed. I didn't stick around to look for it once I found Aaron like…" He trailed off and gestured toward the picture, eyes carefully averted.

"Okay, so you left him on the bed and you went to buy cigarettes. How long were you gone?"

"Maybe half an hour," Brett answered, shrugging and looking up at Nick almost hopefully. "I know the guy who was working – Keith something. He can tell you I was there."

"And what time did you leave the room?"

"I don't know…midnight, maybe?"

Nick nodded and picked up the picture, sliding it back into the envelope before he looked at Aaron again. "One more question. You said you were with Aaron at the club that night – witnesses saw him arguing with a girl. You know anything about that?"

"I saw them," Brett said, expression so hopeful that Nick wished he hadn't brought it up. "Why, do you think she had something to do with it?"

"Right now we just need to know her name."

"Aaron didn't say who she was," Brett answered, features falling and now Nick really felt sorry for him. "All I know is they were screaming at each other – I heard her say something about a lawyer or something, and then Aaron wanted to leave. He was pretty keyed up."

Nick nodded and stood up, reaching into his pocket for a swab. He rounded the table and stopped in front of Brett, pulling the swab open and holding it up. "Open your mouth."

Brett's mouth dropped open obediently, and Nick forced back an image he had no business picturing. He took the swab as quickly as possible and backed up, clearing his throat and glancing at Brass to signal that he was done. It was hard to believe a kid like this could be caught up in something like murder – the thing was, Nick liked him, and he believed Brett when he said he didn't do it. Only they didn't have any other suspects, and the chances were that even if it was accidental, Brett was responsible.

He waited until Brass told the uniform standing by the door to escort Brett back to his holding cell, then he turned and followed the older man out of the room. Once they were out of earshot Brass turned to look at him, eyebrows raised and Nick could tell from his expression that he was ready to arrest the kid. "Looks pretty open and shut to me. The DNA's gonna make the case, right?"

"He admits to having sex with the vic," Nick answered, frowning thoughtfully as his mind ran through the evidence again. "DNA evidence doesn't really do us any good if he admits it."

"Doesn't hurt either," Brass said, smiling grimly at Nick's expression. "So things got a little out of hand and the kid went too far. It happens. It's a hell of a reason to throw away your future, but it happens."

And he knew it was true, but that didn't help him reconcile the scared kid in the interrogation room with the body in the morgue. "That doesn't explain how the body got halfway across the room, though. Or how he got those marks on his wrists."

Brass shrugged and let out a heavy sigh, the one Nick knew meant he was satisfied with the case they'd already built. "Look, you're the scientist. If you can give me some evidence that points to somebody else, great. If not, I've gotta give the D.A. what we've got. You know we can only hold him for twenty-four hours before we arrest him or cut him loose."

Nick nodded when Brass patted him on the shoulder and headed back toward his office. He knew Brass was right – all the evidence pointed to an accident. The girl at the club could have been anyone, and the marks on Aaron's wrists could have come from his own bracelet. If he'd been wearing it when things got too rough it could have made the impressions, and unless they found something else there was no way they'd ever know what really happened.

~

Nick was so caught up in replaying the interview that he didn't notice Greg walking down the hall toward him, scowl firmly in place. He wasn't even aware there was someone else in the hall until Greg was standing right in front of him, and Nick barely managed to stop before he collided with the other man.

"Hey," he said, frowning at Greg's expression.

"What's the deal?"

"Look, G…"

"No," Greg interrupted, mouth set in a determined line and Nick knew he wasn't getting a word in until Greg said what was on his mind. "I thought we were a team here."

"We are."

"Right, and that's why you cut me out just when things started getting interesting."

Nick rolled his eyes at that, lips pursed in irritation because they didn't have time for this. "It's a murder investigation, Greg. It's not a contest."

"Then how come you're shutting me out? Is it because of me and Aaron?"

"No," Nick answered a little too quickly, glancing around to make sure nobody was listening before he grabbed Greg by the arm and pushed him forward. He opened the first door they came to, glancing inside to make sure it was empty before he pushed Greg into the room and closed the door behind them. "Would you keep your voice down?"

Greg rolled his eyes at that, arms crossed over his chest and if Nick didn't know it would make it worse he would have laughed at Greg's expression.

"Why? It's not like it's a secret."

"Look, what you do on your own time is your business," Nick answered, willing himself not to start picturing exactly what Greg did when he was off duty. "But if anybody finds out you were involved with the vic it could compromise the investigation."

"I thought you said we didn't even have a case."

Suspicion crept into Greg's voice, the corners of his mouth turning down in a frown and just for a second Nick wanted to kiss him, just to see what he'd do. But that would just lead to even more complications, and they already had enough of those without Nick making it worse. Instead he crossed his arms over his own chest, clearing his throat and putting a little more distance between them.

"That's not the point. The point is that if Grissom finds out you had a personal involvement with the vic and I let you work the case, both our asses are on the line."

It was true; Grissom was big on propriety, and that meant keeping personal feelings out of the work place as often as possible. Which was why getting involved with Greg was a bad idea, and why Nick wasn't thinking about how good he looked when he was angry. He wasn't thinking about kissing Greg, about showing him exactly why working together was such a bad idea. He wasn't thinking about anything at all except putting this case to rest so he could forget everything he'd learned about Greg in the past few days.

Greg who was still looking at him like he wasn't sure whether or not to believe Nick, and this was getting old really fast. "I'm not trying to freeze you out here, Greg. Brass called me and I just headed to the police station. How'd you even know where I was?"

"Sara. She heard it from Grissom and came around to gloat. It was humiliating."

He could imagine how that conversation went, and he swallowed the fresh rush of guilt that shot through him. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I'm just trying to solve the case here."

"So am I," Greg shot back, voice rising and Nick was sure somebody was going to hear them. "If you don't want to work with me just say so."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how weird you've been acting since I told you I knew Aaron. I thought you'd be cool with it, but if you can't handle it…"

"That's not what this is about," Nick interrupted, but even he didn't believe it. The truth was that it bothered him – it bothered him a lot, but there was no way he was going to tell Greg that. "Look, G, you've never even sat in on an interview, there was no reason for both of us to be there. I just figured you'd get a jump on the bracelet while I talked to Brett."

For a second Greg just stared at him, eyes dark with bitterness and something else that Nick didn't want to believe was disappointment. Then he was moving, shoulders tense as he pushed past Nick toward the door. "Yeah, well, thanks for keeping me in the loop."

"Greg…"

That was as far as he got before Greg was gone, the door swinging shut behind him and leaving Nick alone. He should have known Greg would take this personally – he did know, but he'd ignored it because he didn't want to have to deal with Greg until he was ready. He didn't really want to deal with any of this, but they still had a case to solve and he needed to know what Greg had gotten off the bracelet.

But they needed to verify Brett's story too, and it wouldn't hurt if Nick took care of that before he dealt with Greg again. It would give him a little time to cool off, anyway, and maybe if he gave Greg some time to think about it he'd see that Nick was right. He laughed in spite of himself at that thought – the chances of Greg actually admitting Nick was right about anything were slim, and the fact that Greg thought he was being shut out of the case meant it was going to be even harder to make it up to him.

Not that he was thinking about ways to make it up to Greg. They were on the clock, and even if they weren't it wouldn't change anything. They weren't even friends – not really, and maybe that was the whole problem. If he knew Greg from more than just work he would have known the kind of people Greg hung out with, and he would have known a long time ago that he'd never stood a chance.

As soon as the thought surfaced he shook his head to chase it away, frowning and pulling the door open. He was halfway to the parking lot when it occurred to him what would happen if Greg found out Nick had gone back out without him, and he sighed and paused in mid-stride. All he was doing was going to retrieve the surveillance tapes from the convenience store, but if he didn't tell Greg where he was going he knew it would just start another argument.

He swallowed a heavy sigh and turned around, back down the hall to the DNA lab. When he reached Greg's lab he paused, hand on the door as he took in the tension in Greg's shoulders through the glass. And the last thing he wanted to do was drag an angry Greg across town with him, but it would be even worse if he didn't say anything at all.

"Hey."

Greg looked up as soon as Nick pushed the door open, scowling for a second before he turned back to his lab station. "I don't have anything for you yet."

Nick bit back a sarcastic response, fought back the urge to turn around and walk away too and took a few steps into the lab. "I'm on my way to interview a potential alibi for the suspect. You wanna come along?"

"You sure you trust me out of the lab?" More bitterness, and Nick didn't bother reminding Greg that he'd trusted him with plenty in the last couple days.

"Give me a break here, G. Are you coming or what?"

Greg was still frowning, but he shrugged and slid his lab coat off, dropping it on his chair before he headed for the door. Nick held the door open for him, careful not to come into contact with any part of Greg as the other man brushed past him. He worked hard not to breathe in the combined scents of cologne and chemicals and Greg that he'd gotten so used to over the years, holding his breath as he let go of the door and followed Greg into the hall.

Neither of them said a word on the way to the parking lot, and by the time he'd pulled onto the street without a word from Greg he knew he was in for a quiet ride. But it was just as well, because the less they talked the less he had to worry about saying anything he couldn't take back.

~

They pulled up in front of the convenience store and Nick shut off the engine, taking a deep breath before he looked over at Greg. He opened his mouth to say…something – he had no idea what, but it didn't matter, because before he got the words out Greg was already out of the truck. Nick sighed and told himself it was just as well – they were here to do a job, and it didn't matter how he felt about any of it. He followed Greg into the store, a bell ringing to signal their arrival and a bored-looking clerk glanced up at them from behind the counter.

"Hey," Nick said, taking out his I.D. and flashing it at the kid. "Nick Stokes, Vegas crime lab. I'm looking for Keith."

"Yeah? What'd he do?"

Nick forced a grim smile at the question he'd heard at least a thousand times, managing not to roll his eyes at the slightly less bored-looking clerk. "We just need to ask him a few questions. Is he here?"

"He's in the back," the clerk answered, any spark of interest he'd had disappearing when he realized Nick wasn't going to tell him anything.

"Thanks," Nick said, shaking his head at the clerk before he turned to Greg and gestured toward the back of the store. They walked down the aisle, past rows of candy and chips until they reached the back of the store. Nick glanced around for some sign of an office, stopping when he caught sight of a kid in a 7-Eleven shirt. He couldn't have been more than nineteen or twenty, hair dark and skin scarred from what Nick guessed was years of terrible acne.

"Keith?"

The kid looked up, eyes wide as he took in Nick and Greg. "Yeah. Do I know you?"

"Nick Stokes, Vegas crime lab. This is Greg Sanders. We need to ask you a few questions."

"What about?"

"You know a Brett Wilson?"

Keith shrugged, gaze darting nervously back and forth between Nick and Greg. "Brett…yeah, sure. Marlboro Reds, soft pack. Why, did he do something?"

"Did he come in here Tuesday night?" Nick asked, ignoring Keith's question.

For a second Keith didn't answer, bottom lip caught between his teeth as though he was trying to remember. Then he nodded sharply and his features relaxed into a nervous smile. "Yeah, he was here. He was pissed because he missed the game and I told him the Lakers lost."

"Do you remember what time that was?"

"11:30, maybe later. It was before 1:00, 'cause that's when I get off."

Nick nodded and gestured toward the camera in the corner, watching the red light blink at him for a second before he turned back to Keith. "You keep the tapes from those cameras?"

"Yeah, they're in the office."

"We're gonna need the tapes from Tuesday night."

"Okay," Keith answered. "It'll just take me a minute. Brett's not in some kind of trouble, is he?"

"We're just following up on his story. Those tapes would help out a lot."

Keith nodded and took a few steps backwards, frowning thoughtfully at Nick before he finally turned around and pushed open a door at the back of the store. A minute later he was back with a handful of tapes, handing them over and glancing at Greg again. "You guys sure he's not in trouble?"

"It's a murder investigation, man, we can't tell you anything," Nick answered, taking the tapes and turning toward the front of the store. "Thanks for the help."

He led Greg back outside, tossing the surveillance tapes in the back seat before he slid behind the wheel again. One glance at Greg let him know that he was still pissed – he hadn't said a word since they left the lab, and Nick didn't understand why he'd bothered to come along at all. Instead of asking he sighed and shifted the truck into gear, pulling out of the parking lot and heading back to the lab.

They drove back in silence, Greg staring out the windshield and Nick's hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his fingers ached. He knew he should apologize, say _something_ to make Greg understand, only he wasn't sure he understood, and he had no idea how to explain it to somebody else. Especially not Greg, because he was the whole problem. And Nick should have taken him off the case when he had the chance, but it was way too late for that now, so he was just going to have to figure out a way to get through the rest of the case.

"Listen, Greg," he said when he pulled into the crime lab parking lot, shutting off the engine and shifting to look at the other man, "I'm sorry."

"You didn't need me."

"What?"

Greg sighed and shifted on the seat, finally looking over at Nick for the first time since they left the lab. "You didn't need me back there, just like you didn't need me at the interview. So why'd you drag me along this time?"

He had no idea how to answer that – _I felt guilty_ wouldn't go over all that well, and there was no way he was going to tell Greg he wanted him there. He knew exactly how that would sound, and even if that wasn't exactly what he meant it wouldn't matter.

"I wasn't trying to blow you off at the interview," he said, willing Greg to believe him. "It's not like you missed much. It was pretty standard."

"For you, maybe. I've never sat in on an interview before."

And okay, now he felt even worse, because it wasn't like he'd just forgotten to call Greg. Nick had been avoiding him on purpose, and he couldn't even explain why without humiliating himself.

"Greg…" There were a dozen different things he wanted to say, but every one of them sounded way too close to 'I want you' inside his head, so he knew he couldn't say any of them out loud. Finally he sighed and looked down at the seat between them, forcing out the only words that wouldn't incriminate him. "It won't happen again, okay?"

For a second Greg didn't say anything, and Nick was starting to think maybe he wasn't going to get an answer. He looked up, half expecting Greg to be climbing out of the truck already. Instead he found the other man watching him, expression a mixture of resignation and something else Nick couldn't name. "Just be straight with me. Is this because I slept with Aaron?"

"No," Nick answered a little too quickly, cheeks flushing and he was glad it was dark so Greg wouldn't see him blush. "It's not…look, it's not because you like guys. Not the way you mean."

It was a lie – Nick's whole attitude toward the case had everything to do with Greg's relationship with Aaron, but he couldn't say that without admitting the rest, that he'd wanted Greg for awhile, and he'd been trying not to want him for even longer.

"Then what?" Greg asked, leaning a little closer and there was no way Nick was going to get through this conversation without embarrassing himself.

"I just..." He trailed off, lips pressed together in a frustrated frown. He had no idea how to say any of this – he'd never been any good at these conversations, and more than anything he wished he could rewind the last few days so he could go back to not knowing. "Aaron, that guy at the club – it's just hard to picture you getting mixed up with guys like that."

"Look, just because I went out with him once or twice doesn't mean I was mixed up with anything. Some of my friends and I used to go to that club sometimes, just to dance. One of the guys I hung out with went to school with Aaron back in New York, he introduced us. We hung out a little and he brought me up to the VIP room. That's how I met Max. And I never dated him. His type's a little more…buff, if you know what I mean."

Greg's gaze wandered pointedly down the front of Nick's shirt, making Nick blush an even darker shade of red. He knew better than to think Greg was actually checking him out, but that was how it felt, and he knew he was grinning, but he couldn't stop himself. It was tempting to ask what Greg's type was, but that was way too close to flirting and there was no way Nick was going to cross that line again.

"Anything else you want to know?"

"No," Nick answered, blushing all over again at Greg's expression.

"You sure? It's a one time offer."

If he didn't know better he'd think Greg was flirting with him – he was pretty sure he was, but Greg flirted with everybody and it was hard to tell if he meant it or if he was just joking around. "Look, are we cool here?"

"Yeah," Greg said, features softening into a genuine smile and Nick's stomach did a weird little flutter that made him clear his throat and shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"Good." He nodded and reached for the door handle, barely remembering to slide his keys out of the ignition before he let himself out of the truck. Once he'd retrieved the surveillance tapes from the back seat he caught up with Greg, falling into step with him on the way across the parking lot.

He was careful to keep enough distance between them to avoid the temptation of touching, fingers twitching at his sides when Greg reached the front door and stopped abruptly. He turned with one hand on the door handle, a thoughtful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Hey, you want to get some breakfast after work?"

It took a second for the words to sink in, and another second for Nick's mouth to catch up with his brain. Finally he managed to force out a weak 'sure', nodding for emphasis and he was pretty sure Greg was holding back a laugh when he said 'good' and pulled the door open. Before Nick had a chance to react Greg was gone, leaving him standing just inside the door, trying to decide whether or not Greg had just asked him out.

~

Two hours of digging into Aaron's past helped take Nick's mind off his plans for after work, but as soon as he looked up and saw Greg watching him from the doorway their conversation came flooding back. He still wasn't sure if their breakfast was a date or just Greg's way of showing Nick that everything was really okay between them, and no matter how much he wanted to ask there was no way he could.

Greg smirked when their eyes met, holding up a sheet of paper and taking a few steps into the room. "Found a hair stuck in the clasp of the bracelet. No skin tag, but I compared it to the other samples we collected."

"And?"

"And it matches the unknown female relative."

That was enough to make Nick forget about breakfast, and he reached out and took the test results Greg was still holding. "The sister?"

"Unless Aaron's mother isn't as dead as he thought she was."

Nick rolled his eyes and handed the paper back to Greg. "The sister's the only living relative he's got. She must have followed him from the club after their argument."

"That still doesn't give us a motive."

"But this does," Nick answered, picking up the documents he'd spent the past few hours collecting. "Aaron's financial history – the trust fund, then when that ran out there were a few personal loans from a corporation their parents left. Looks like he was trying to sell his half when he died – with him gone, his sister owns the whole thing."

Greg leaned in to look over Nick's shoulder, chest pressed against Nick's arm and it was a struggle not to lean into all that heat. "What corporation?"

He felt the words before he heard them, warm against his neck and he was not thinking about that right now. Not with Greg so close, one hip pressed against the table in front of them. All Nick had to do was turn, just a few inches and they'd be kissing, lips pressed together and he wasn't sure, but he was starting to think maybe that was what Greg wanted.

"Their father made all his money in the paper business," Nick answered, fighting the urge to shift nervously as Greg leaned a little closer. "Copier paper, that kind of thing. When they died Aaron and his sister inherited the whole thing – looks like she stayed in New York and took over the business while he was in Vegas blowing through his trust fund."

"So why not just buy him out? Why'd she kill him?"

Nick shrugged, the movement bringing him even closer to Greg. He cleared his throat and straightened up, taking a step backwards to put a little space between them. "The sale's public record, but the paperwork was being handled by the family lawyer, so it's all privileged. But if he got a better offer from somebody else it would give her a motive."

"So she killed him to stop him from selling out and set up his boyfriend to take the fall. That's cold."

"Yeah, but Brett's story checks out. He's on the surveillance tapes from the convenience store."

"He still could have killed Aaron, though, right?"

Greg was still leaning against the table, arms crossed over his chest and Nick told himself he wasn't disappointed that Greg didn't try to get close to him again. That whole leaning thing probably hadn't meant anything – he was just interested in the case, and if Nick was smart he'd take Greg's lead and focus on the facts instead of how close they were standing.

"He doesn't have a motive," Nick answered, frowning at the memory of Brett sitting across the table, trying hard not to look at the picture of Aaron. "Anyway, the sister's bracelet matches the marks on Aaron's wrists."

He reached for the crime scene photos on the table, thumbing through them until he found the images of Aaron's wrists. There were small starburst impressions on the insides of both his wrists, and Nick was pretty sure now that he knew how they'd gotten there. But he needed to see it in action to be sure, and Greg was the only one around to help with a demonstration.

"Do me a favor and lie down."

"That's a pretty big favor, isn't it? I mean usually I at least get a drink first."

Nick rolled his eyes, forcing back a blush at the sight of Greg's smirk. And now he was almost sure Greg was flirting, but he couldn't do anything about it while they were at work. Not when anybody could walk in, and especially not when they were so close to making their case.

"According to Brett he left Aaron on the bed, right? But he was found on the floor, so he must have woken up and tried to get away at some point. Maybe she started on the bed, and when he came to he pushed her off and tried to run. Once she finished the job she grabbed his wrists and dragged him back to the center of the room, staging the body so we'd think it was some sex game gone wrong."

"And she was counting on Brett to take the fall."

"Right, only she didn't notice that she lost her bracelet in the process." Nick took one last look at the pictures of Aaron's wrists, then set them down on the table. "So lie down on the floor."

Greg grinned but did as he was told, stretching out on the floor and holding his wrists up obediently. Nick was glad he was face down, because he couldn't hold back the blush that crept up his neck at the sight of Greg on his stomach. He cleared his throat for what felt like the thousandth time, reaching down to grip Greg's wrists with both hands.

"So if her bracelet was here she would have had to grip him like this…" It took him a few seconds to find the right angle, but when he finally did he dragged Greg a few feet and then let go. "That's how it happened. She must have lost her bracelet trying to cover her tracks."

He watched as Greg flipped over, pushing himself up onto his elbows to smile at Nick. "Only the evidence always tells the truth. A little help?"

Greg reached a hand up, waving it expectantly when Nick hesitated. He rolled his eyes and reached down, hand closing around Greg's to pull him to his feet. As soon as he did he realized it was a mistake, because Greg landed less than a foot away from Nick, smile firmly in place and his hand still gripping Nick's firmly. He hesitated just a second longer than strictly necessary before he let go, smile shifting and Nick had to look away.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Nick answered, hoping he sounded more calm than he felt. Only it was hard to be calm with Greg still standing in his personal space, watching Nick as though he was expecting Nick to do…something.

"So we've got our motive and our opportunity," Greg said, and Nick swallowed a relieved sigh when he took a step backwards. "The question is, is it enough for the D.A.?"

"I'll call Brass," Nick answered, turning away from Greg to gather the evidence he'd spread out on the table. "Aaron's sister is due in to claim the body tomorrow."

"Isn't it kind of stupid to return to the scene of the crime?"

When he turned around again Greg was still watching him, an unreadable expression on his face. It was hard not to squirm under that steady gaze, but he managed to hold his ground, shrugging nonchalantly. "She probably figures she's already gotten away with it. Besides, we need a positive I.D. before we release the body, and as far as she knows she's the only one who can do it."

"Case closed."

"Looks that way."

Greg nodded and took a few steps toward the door, pausing when he reached it and turning back to Nick. "So I guess I'll see you later, then."

"Yeah," Nick answered, swallowing against the fresh blush that threatened to surface. "We…uh, we can take my truck if you want."

That got him a smile, bright this time and with a hint of amusement. "It's a date."

Before he could react Greg was gone, leaving Nick standing in the center of the room with his mouth open. And he was pretty sure Greg wasn't a mind reader, although he was starting to wonder. Either that or Nick was just that transparent – he shook his head at the thought, grinning to himself as he gathered the rest of his files and headed for a phone to call Brass.

~

Nick's fingers drummed against the table, coffee sitting untouched in front of him. He knew there was no reason to be nervous – he was a grown man, after all, and it wasn't like he'd never been on a date before. But this was different, because it was a date with a coworker. Not just any coworker – Greg, of all people, and he couldn't help worrying that maybe he was reading the signs all wrong.

But if Greg wasn't interested he was doing a good job of pretending – there was the way he'd smiled at Nick before he got up and disappeared into the bathroom, the way he'd leaned in close and said 'I'll be right back' as though he was worried that maybe Nick was going to run out on him. Not that there was any chance of that, because even if he wanted to leave Nick wasn't sure his legs would carry him all the way to the door.

Less than a minute later Greg reappeared, grinning as soon as he saw Nick watching him, and that look was all it took to remind Nick of why he wasn't walking away. Because there was a part of him that knew this was a bad idea, but it was all he'd been thinking about for almost a week and there was no way he was going to walk away now.

"Miss me?" Greg asked when he slid into the booth across from Nick, smiling when Nick rolled his eyes.

"You were gone for two minutes."

"You timed me? I guess you did miss me," Greg answered, his smile turning smug as he picked up his coffee. As soon as he took a sip he made a face and put it back down, reaching for his water instead. "That's disgusting."

"You just don't like anybody's coffee but your own."

"I don't know, I haven't tried yours yet."

That was definitely flirting – the smile, the slightly raised eyebrows, even the way Greg watched him over his water glass made Nick want to shift restlessly in his seat. Instead he glanced toward the counter at the front of the restaurant, watching their waitress carry their order toward the table. He waited until she set their food down and made sure they didn't need anything else before he looked at Greg again.

"The case against the sister is starting to look airtight," he said, picking up his fork and poking at his scrambled eggs. "Brass says she was supposed to be in Chicago on business when Aaron died, but there's no record of a hotel stay or a plane ticket on her credit cards. He had the Chicago P.D. check around, but…"

"Nick," Greg interrupted, voice quiet but firm, and Nick looked up to find him leaning across the table, mouth turned up in a bemused grin. "I didn't ask you here to talk about the case."

And okay, he wasn't expecting Greg to be so…direct. He knew Greg had never had a problem saying what was on his mind, though, so Nick nodded and carefully laid his fork on the table. "Yeah? So why are we here?"

"I thought we were here to talk about us."

"There's an us now?"

Greg shrugged, matching Nick's grin with one of his own. "That depends on you, I guess."

On him…like there was a question about whether or not Nick was interested. He thought that was already pretty clear when he said yes to breakfast, but maybe Greg wasn't as sure of himself as he wanted Nick to believe. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make Nick feel a little better, and he relaxed marginally and leaned back in the booth to look at Greg. "So…what, do you need it in writing or something?"

"I've always been a big fan of oral communication myself," Greg answered, smile turning flirtatious and at least Nick knew more or less where he stood now.

He knew what Greg was waiting to hear – knew him well enough to be pretty sure this wasn't going any further until he said it, but they were still in public and even though the restaurant wasn't crowded he felt a blush creeping up his neck at the thought of saying the words 'I want you' where somebody might overhear him. And it just figured Greg couldn't have done this a few hours ago, when they were alone in the evidence room where at least there was a door between them and anyone who might be within listening range.

"Look…I'm interested, okay? I thought that was obvious."

For a second Greg didn't answer, and Nick started to think maybe he'd said something wrong. He wasn't any good at these kinds of conversations – he had a feeling Greg knew that, though, and that this was just Greg's way of paying Nick back for all the personal questions he'd been asking lately. The weight of Greg's gaze made him nervous, tense all over and he had to press a hand down hard against his knee to keep it from knocking against the table. And it felt like hours, but he knew it was only a few seconds before Greg finally answered.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Why didn't you?" Nick shot back, frowning when Greg let out a surprised laugh.

"Are you kidding? How many more ways could I say it?"

"Something along the lines of 'I like guys' probably would have been a little more straightforward than bragging about all the girls you've been with."

Greg shook his head at that, breakfast forgotten in front of him as he leaned a little closer. "I thought you knew. I just didn't think you were interested."

"Yeah, well, I didn't," Nick said, clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably. He had a feeling he _should_ have known – maybe he should have taken Greg's flirting more seriously, or maybe there were other signals. Signals he'd missed, because he was so busy making sure nobody at the lab found out about him that he'd missed what was right under his nose.

"Well now you do." Greg smiled, but there was a nervous edge to it, like maybe he wasn't any more sure than Nick about what happened now.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"So are we going to do anything about it?"

"What, here?" He grinned when Greg laughed, but the truth was that there was a part of him that wanted to pull Greg across the table and kiss him. That same part of him didn't really care who was watching, just as long as he was sure they were on the same page before the moment passed and he lost his chance. There was always the chance that this was all one long, weird dream, after all, and if he woke up without doing anything he'd regret it forever.

"If that's what you're into," Greg answered, leaning back in his seat and something about the way he smiled chased all the worry out of Nick. This wasn't just breakfast, and even if they went their separate ways after they paid the bill he knew it wouldn't be the end. If nothing else he still had to drive Greg back to his car, and his truck was at least more private than a public restaurant.

He cleared his throat again, glancing around to make sure no one was listening as he reached for his wallet to toss a few bills on the table. "Maybe we should take this conversation someplace else."

Greg laughed at that, low and suggestive as he slid out of the booth and reached for his jacket. "Right behind you."

~

Nick watched Greg climb into the truck, arm stretched out along the seat and looking…comfortable. Like he belonged there; the thought made Nick smile, and just for a second he felt like a teenager. "You still want your shirt back?"

"What, right now?"

He shrugged when Greg turned to look at him, glancing out the windshield at the restaurant they'd just left. "I don't have it on me. It's at my house."

"If you want me to go home with you, just say so."

And okay, now he _really_ felt like a teenager, but he smiled self-consciously and turned to face Greg again. "I want you to come home with me."

"I thought you'd never ask."

He laughed at that, shaking his head and turning on the ignition. The drive back to his place only took a few minutes, but it felt like forever before he finally pulled into his driveway. He could _feel_ Greg just a few feet away, energy practically radiating off him and it was all Nick could do not to reach out and touch. He kept his hands to himself until they made it to his front door, but as soon as they got inside his hands took on a life of their own, gripping Greg's hips and pushing him hard against the wall.

Greg's surprised grunt was muffled by their first kiss, lips parting under Nick's and hands clenching around his shirt to pull him closer. It was just as good as Nick imagined – better, because he could smell Greg and feel the heat of his skin through his clothes, hear the needy little noises he made when Nick shifted against him. His fingers flexed against Nick's shirt, and when Greg tugged the fabric up his chest Nick broke the kiss long enough to pull it off. Before it even hit the floor he was pulling Greg away from the wall, past the living room and toward the hall.

"What, no tour?" Greg gasped, grinning when Nick laughed and pulled him toward the bedroom.

"Later," he answered, fingers already working Greg's buttons open as they stumbled down the hall.

He stopped when his legs hit the edge of the bed, letting Greg push him back onto the mattress. His fingers found the belt loops on the front of Greg's jeans, hooking around the fabric to tug Greg forward. A second later he was draped in Greg, knees planted on either side of him and Nick reached between them to work Greg's zipper open. He swallowed Greg's moan as he surged up for another kiss, taking advantage of parted lips to slide his tongue past Greg's teeth.

When he finally got Greg's jeans open he pushed a hand inside, fingers curling around Greg's cock and he laughed against Greg's mouth when the other man thrust into his grip. And he knew if he didn't slow down they wouldn't even get all their clothes off before they came, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when Greg was moaning and thrusting hard into the circle of his fist, hands clenched in the sheets on either side of Nick's shoulders and hips moving rhythmically.

There were condoms…somewhere, but his brain was too fried from hours of anticipation to remember where he'd put them. Days of anticipation, really, because he'd been thinking about this moment for way too long and now that it was finally here he couldn't get enough. He wanted more – more skin, more heat, more of whatever Greg wanted to give him.

Greg's mouth left his to trail down his neck, tongue tracing his collarbone and sending a shiver down Nick's spine. He took his time exploring Nick's skin, hands still braced against the mattress as he mouthed his way down the center of Nick's chest. When he reached Nick's stomach he paused, glancing up long enough to smile when Nick nodded frantically and lifted his hips in silent permission.

A few seconds later his jeans were sliding down his thighs, boxers following to leave Nick exposed and hard and holding back a pathetic 'please' with the last of his self-control. Because he wasn't going to beg, but when Greg's mouth finally closed around his cock he couldn't quite swallow a relieved sigh. He gripped the sheets on either side of him, knuckles white with the effort not to thrust up and choke the other man.

Greg was kneeling between his knees, one hand holding his hips down and the other closing around his balls, squeezing gently and Nick moaned at the sensation. He let go of the sheet with one hand, reaching down to run a hand through Greg's hair and urge him a little faster. Greg took the hint almost immediately, cheeks hollow and mouth moving fast, tongue doing things that made Nick squeeze his eyes shut and thrust up harder against the hand still holding him against the mattress.

He could hear himself moaning but he couldn't stop – didn't even want to, because it all felt way too good. The heat of Greg's mouth, the pressure of fingers squeezing his balls, even the hard press of Greg's hand against his hip felt good. Then Greg's hand slid farther back, pressing against the taut skin behind Nick's balls. A surprised gasp escaped Nick's throat when Greg found his prostate, white sparks going off behind his eyes when Greg did it again.

A third time was all it took, and before he could utter so much as a warning he was coming, mouth open and whole body tense with the effort. Greg waited until the last shudder subsided before he pulled his away, crawling back over Nick to mouth a hot trail along his neck. He summoned enough strength to reach up and run a hand through Greg's hair, fingers tightening enough to force Greg's mouth back up to his own.

Greg's lips parted automatically against his, moaning against Nick's mouth as he thrust lazily against Nick's thigh. He was still hard, but he didn't seem to be in any hurry, and when Nick reached up to slide the rest of his clothes off before he pushed Greg onto his side. And this was better, because Greg's skin was soft and warm against his own as Nick slid a hand down Greg's back, one finger pressing against the entrance to his body.

A groan escaped Greg's throat at the first press of Nick's finger inside him, knee bent and sliding over Nick's thigh and just like that Greg…opened. For _him_ , like he'd been thinking about this moment for as long as Nick had. And that was another one of those questions Nick was going to get around to asking eventually, but not right now. Not when Greg's tongue was thrusting in and out of his mouth, the taste of Nick still on his tongue and his hips pressing back into each tiny thrust.

Nick pulled back to watch, taking in the sight of flushed skin and the heavy rise and fall of Greg's chest as he struggled for breath. He watched Greg's eyelids flutter against the urge to close, gaze cloudy and unfocused. He ignored the disappointed groan when he pulled his hand away from Greg, sliding it down his chest to push past his balls and back inside, and this was much so better. The angle was better, because he could push two fingers inside now and when his other hand closed around Greg's cock Greg finally gave in to the urge to close his eyes.

He arched into the sensation, rocking between Nick's fist and the fingers working in and out of him, leg still hooked over Nick's hip and lips parted. Nick leaned in for another kiss, fitting their mouths together to taste coffee and sweet and Greg on his tongue. And it was a little awkward, because he couldn't move his hand as much as he wanted and he couldn't get his fingers deep enough to find that spot inside Greg, but he couldn't bring himself to stop long enough to switch positions.

But Greg's fingers dug hard into his shoulder, and a few seconds later it didn't matter anymore. He tensed and came hard in Nick's grip, muscles clenching tight around the fingers still buried inside him as wet heat coated Nick's fingers. He lifted them to his mouth, tasting Greg on his own skin as he sucked each one clean. When Greg finally relaxed Nick pulled his other hand away, using a corner of the sheet to wipe Greg's stomach before he pulled the other man close and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Greg's mouth.

There was a small part of him that was terrified Greg was going to want to leave, but he didn't show any signs of moving, and after a minute or two Nick caught the distinct sound of Greg's breathing evening out with sleep. And it just figured Greg would be the type to pass out right after, but it had been a long night and Nick was exhausted too, so he couldn't really blame Greg. He chuckled softly and reached down to tug the covers over both of them, planting one more kiss on Greg's cheek before he stretched out next to him and closed his eyes.

~

The shrill ringing of the phone jolted Nick out of a deep sleep. He reached over the warm body next to him and picked up his cell phone, lips brushing across Greg's shoulder as he flipped it open. "Stokes."

"Nick, it's Brass. Sorry for the early wake-up call."

"No problem," Nick answered, sitting up and glancing at the clock. "What's up?"

"We just picked up Cynthia Landry."

That was all it took to chase away the last remnants of sleep, and suddenly Nick was wide awake and pushing the covers back. "I'll be right there."

He hung up the phone and leaned over Greg again, dropping it back onto the nightstand before he turned his attention to the stretch of skin at the base of Greg's neck. Greg's back was warm against his chest, neck elongated and when Nick pressed his lips to Greg's skin the other man murmured something Nick couldn't quite make out.

"Hey," Nick said, grinning when Greg pressed back into him, "we gotta go."

Greg grumbled something else Nick didn't catch, but he tilted his head to give Nick better access to the sensitive spot just behind his ear. Nick took advantage of the opportunity to trace the shell of Greg's ear with his tongue, nipping gently at his earlobe before he turned his attention back to Greg's neck. He didn't want to get up and go down to the station any more than Greg did – what he wanted to do was stay right here, taking his time studying every part of Greg he hadn't gotten to last night.

The interrogation wouldn't wait forever, though, and Nick couldn't just blow it off. It was his case – their case – and that meant they had a responsibility. He slid an arm around Greg's waist, pressing one last kiss to his neck before he tugged him onto his back. "We really have to get up, G. Brass wants us down at the station."

"He wants _you_ at the station," Greg answered, eyes finally blinking open to look up at Nick. "Nobody called me."

Nick rolled his eyes and pulled away, shaking his head as he climbed off the mattress. "Fine, if you want to miss out on another interview it's your call."

He grinned to himself when Greg sighed dramatically and kicked the covers back, following Nick down the hall to the bathroom. And he had a feeling pulling Greg into the shower with him was a bad idea, because Brass was expecting him and he couldn't afford to waste any more time. That didn't stop him from reaching out to thread his fingers through Greg's, tugging him under warm water and pulling him close.

"Change your mind?"

"Since I'm awake I guess I could put in an appearance."

Greg grinned when Nick laughed and reached around him for the shampoo, doing his best to ignore the hands moving slowly down his chest as he washed first Greg's hair and then his own. It was a little weird to see Greg like this, hair wet and flat against his skull for once, but he had a feeling he could get used to it. There were a lot of things about Greg he could get used to, starting with having him around on a regular basis. He didn't know how Greg felt about that yet, but as soon as their case was wrapped up he was going to find out.

Too soon they were climbing back out of the shower, drying off and taking turns with Nick's toothbrush before they went back to his bedroom to get dressed. Nick pulled on a pair of jeans before he found Greg's shirt, tossing it to the other man. "Here. I washed it."

Greg grinned and shook his head, glancing down at the shirt in his hands before he tossed it back to Nick. "Keep it. You look good in my clothes."

Nick swallowed a grin as he tugged the t-shirt over his head, biting back a question about exactly why Greg had lent him the shirt in the first place. When he looked up again Greg was pulling his own jeans on, boxers still on the floor next to the shirt he'd been wearing last night, and there was no way Nick was going to be able to focus when he knew Greg was going commando. He fought back the urge to peel Greg's jeans right off him again, crossing to his closet and digging through his clothes until he found the shirt he was looking for.

"Here," he said, handing a dark blue button-down to Greg. And he really needed to wear that color more often, Nick decided as Greg buttoned his shirt, ends untucked and now Nick was going to have to fight the urge to slide his hands under Greg's shirt.

He cleared his throat and reached for his wallet, waiting until Greg got his shoes back on before he led the other man out of the bedroom. He found his keys on the floor just inside the front door, flushing at the memory of how they'd gotten there as he leaned over to pick them up. Images flashed in his mind, of Greg up against his wall, Greg's mouth around his cock, the silent 'o' of surprise his mouth formed just before he came.

And he still hadn't fucked Greg, hadn't done a lot of the things he'd been fantasizing about for longer than he wanted to admit. He had a feeling there would be time for all of that later, though – all of that and more, because Greg didn't seem like he was in any hurry to get away from Nick.

They drove to the police station in a companionable silence, comfortable for once and when they walked into the station Nick was relaxed enough to forget for a second that he shouldn't touch. As soon as he realized his hand was on Greg's back he pulled it away, glancing around self-consciously to make sure no one was paying attention to them. But everyone in the hall was caught up in whatever case they were working on, and Nick was pretty sure no one even noticed them as they made their way toward the interrogation rooms.

He found the room where Brass was holding Cynthia Landry, careful not to touch Greg as he pulled the door open and let the other man inside. Brass raised his eyebrows at the sight of Greg, but he recovered quickly and Nick shrugged it off as he slid into the seat across from Cynthia Landry.

"Miss Landry, this is Nick Stokes and Greg Sanders from the crime lab. They've got a few questions they'd like to ask you about your brother's death."

She was tall for a girl – Nick could tell that even though she was sitting, heavyset and well-manicured and he was pretty sure the suit she was wearing cost more than most of his wardrobe put together. It was obvious she took pride in her appearance, probably put a lot of stock in her last name too and Nick wasn't surprised that there hadn't been much love lost between her and her brother.

"I don't know anything about it," she said, glancing at Nick and Greg and then back at Brass. "That's why I'm here, to find out what happened."

And he had to admit she was a pretty good actress, because if it wasn't for the evidence Nick might have bought her innocent routine. He already knew what happened, though, and the only reason they were here was to get her to admit it. "When's the last time you saw your brother?"

"The last time he was in New York. At least a year ago. What does that have to do with anything?"

"But you've talked to him," Nick said, ignoring her question. "You were trying to buy his half of the company."

"I talked to our lawyer," she answered, frowning first at Nick, then at Brass. "He handled all the negotiations."

Nick grinned at that, gaze never leaving Cynthia as she shifted in her chair. "Yeah, but you two were brother and sister. You grew up together, got all that sibling rivalry stuff out of the way. The deal was getting a little complicated, so you picked up the phone and called him, right? You guys didn't need a lawyer to work out a little family matter."

"You've obviously never met my family," she said, eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. "What's this all about? I thought he was murdered by that boyfriend of his."

"That's one theory," Nick answered, reaching for the case file in front of Brass and pulling out a picture of Aaron's wrists. "We found these marks on his wrists. Any idea what could have made them?"

For a second she looked completely blank, but then her cheeks flushed just enough to let Nick know that she knew exactly what he was getting at. "I have no idea."

"They're from a bracelet. We found it at the scene," Nick added, putting the picture back in the file and giving her a grim smile. "Look, we know you saw your brother the night he died. Your hair was in his apartment, and witnesses saw you two arguing at a club a few hours before he died."

She shrugged, pulling herself together almost instantly and Nick could see that she'd thought this through. "So I came to Vegas to try to talk some sense into him. It didn't work, so I went home. I didn't kill him."

"Your bracelet says you did. We found your hair stuck in the clasp, and the design matches the impressions on your brother's wrists. You followed him from the club and waited until Brett left, then you strangled him and left Brett to take the fall."

"It would serve him right," she snapped, eyes narrowing dangerously and Nick swallowed a shudder at the murderer he could almost see in her now. "Getting Aaron hooked on drugs, talking him into selling his half of the business just to support their habit."

"Your brother was using a long time before he met Brett," Nick said, glancing at Greg long enough to register that he was watching the interview with a rapt expression. "Maybe you should have gotten him some help before he blew through all his money."

She smiled bitterly at that, eyes flashing with grim amusement. "You think I gave a damn what happened to him? He never did a thing to keep the business going after my father died. All Aaron ever knew how to do was cash his allowance checks, and when those ran out he sold out to the first big company to make him an offer. There was no way I was going to let _my_ company get swallowed up by a major corporation just because Aaron needed a fix."

He'd heard this speech a hundred times from a hundred different suspects, so he pushed back his chair as Brass stood up.

"That's enough for me," Brass said, nodding at Nick before he turned back to Cynthia. "Cynthia Landry, you're under arrest for the murder of Aaron Landry."

Nick tuned out the words he knew by heart and turned toward Greg, nodding in the direction of the door. They let themselves out of the room, the door closing on the sound of Brass reading Cynthia her rights. It wasn't until they were out of the police station and back in Nick's truck that either of them spoke, and Nick let out a heavy sigh as he finally turned to look at Greg. "So was it what you expected?"

"Pretty much," Greg answered, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're pretty hot when you're all fired up like that."

He rolled his eyes, but it was enough to chase most of the tension out of him, and he couldn't help grinning back at Greg. "So do you want me to take you back to your car or what?"

Greg glanced down at his watch, counting the hours until they had to be at the lab. Nick already knew how early it still was, and more than anything he wanted to drive right back to his house and crawl back into bed with Greg. He didn't want to say it, though, not until he was sure that was what Greg wanted.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On what happens now. I mean the case is over, so does that mean…" Greg gestured vaguely between them, still smiling but Nick could see how nervous he was about the answer. His heart skipped a beat and he cleared his throat, starting the ignition and backing out of the parking lot before he answered. What he really wanted to do was lean over and kiss Greg, to make sure he knew exactly where Nick stood on the subject, but he couldn't do that in front of the precinct house.

Instead he pulled back into the early afternoon traffic, waiting until they were safely away from the station to look over at Greg again. "What do you say we go back to my place and talk about it?"

The grin that got him made his stomach do a weird little flip, and he found himself grinning back in spite of the nerves making his heart beat way too fast.

"You read my mind."


End file.
